Human Nature
by Quilapayuna
Summary: Past and Future. God and the Devil. Modern and Retrospective. Academia and Piracy. When a 21st century student lands in an early era as a product of forbidden crossings, ideas are exchanged, a way of life is challenged, and the bonds of humanity grow. JOC
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

**Human Nature **

By Quilapayuna

**Prologue**

You'd have to live in New York to understand. That's what they usually say when your explaining the situation.

The typical New Yorker is chaotic by nature and is always on the premises of being busy. There is no such thing as relaxation. Most New Yorkers have that hyper-ness within the blood and if you don't …you'll have to buy it on e-Bay in order to survive.

If you're a New Yorker or have been to New York you'll understand what I'm talking about. It's being defensive in attitude; it's like having this exterior immune system. New Yorkers, they are in which by no means _friendly_. They're indifferent, to the point, and no beating around the bush unless you want to sugar coat things so they won't seem _that_ bad. You won't find diplomacy in New York it's "Go to hell", none of that B.S.-ing with that "I hope you have a nice trip going to a place very down south". Like I said, New Yorkers are to the point.

So now you're probably asking – what's _my_ point?

My point is that in being a New Yorker, anywhere, anything is a lot more fascinating than having to live in this shitty overrated industrialized mainstream capitalist city. Or at least it would seem to the restricted freedom that the life a teenage student has…


	2. Meet Her

**Chapter 2: Meet Her**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

**Human Nature **

By Quilapayuna

**Meet Her**

Every student knows what it's like to have to wake up at the crack of dawn with little to no desire of getting out of the warm comfort of one's bed. But when that alarm rings (_if_ it rings, that is), to say that it's incredibly irritating is an understatement.

Slapping her hand against the morning torture device, the girl who was still more than half asleep almost doze off to again.

_School…_

She prayed her eyes open with a little more effort.

It was a school day – Monday to be precise. She sat up in her bed looking at the messy room that was dark from the pulled down shade and the dark wood paneling.

_Monday, Monday…wish it were Sunday…_

With a swift swing of her legs, she felt the cold blow against them as she shook off the sheets. Tensed hands gripped the very side of the mattress and while heavy eyelids looked down – she contemplated.

_Report cards today…_

At this point in the game it shouldn't have mattered. She had already applied to a half a dozen colleges and everyone knew that colleges were mostly interested in their Junior Year, as a Senior it was natural to _want_ to slack off and become infected with what is often diagnosed as "senioritis." Except…she had become infected with it since late sophomore year and had never really applied herself more after that.

The air of her room smelt of something distinct that came from the heater along with dirty socks and…_grease_?

Her eyes opened a little wider this time and her cold feet touched the floor. Walking over towards the offending smell, she came to a pile of her clothing from last night.

She picked up the offending overalls covered in grease, "I can't believe I forgot to pick that up last night, it reeks."

Well, here was perhaps the _real_ reason she wasn't applying herself in school that much. There were very few _conventional_ subjects she liked in school – history, government, language, and practically anything related to the social sciences was what she enjoyed from what they taught in school, but her passion – a hobby she had taken up since very young – was mechanics.

Not very feminine and perhaps a little odd for a girl her age to like _that_ sort of thing, but it was her oddity and she cherished it. She supposed she could have credited her father for that since he would take her with him on every trip to the mechanic garage to get their car fixed but it wasn't like he was ever hyped about fixing cars or anything. The taste for motors had been built up all on her own in reality…along with technology. She was a computer nerd, that was for sure and it made her greasy passions all the better. On some days she'd spend hours drawing and inventing different sorts of motors for cars, airplanes, and anything else that she managed to fantasize in her head.

At first her love for auto mechanics had been distant – not really in reach for her since she didn't have anywhere to "experiment" not to mention that her dad would have had her head if he caught her messing around with his car. So by the time she was in sophomore year of high school someone mentioned to her that people could take college courses after school and on weekends in community colleges. Looking it up out of pure impulse she spotted the course title that had changed her life completely: "Automotive Technology 101."

And the rest, as they say, is history. She had learned much that year, and still was learning, taking more courses at advanced levels. Currently in her "Automatic Transmissions and Transaxles" course she was the _only_ female and not to mention the only high school student there. Actually, now that she thought about it, she had been the only girl in her auto mechanic classes.

"Shit," the girl said glancing at the clock realizing she had a little less than ten minutes to get ready. Quickly grabbing the overalls, shoving them into the dirty clothes bin and running off into the bathroom where she showered in record time – not very hygienic to say the least. Dressing in a rush, she threw on a large shirt and pulled on a pair of baggy jeans. Tying her dark hair back into a messy bun, she was off with her bag-pack in one hand and her jacket in the other.

It was a typical eastern winter chill outside and she was swift to put on her jacket and her 'hobo' hat, as she had endeared it. Outside her house was snowy and icy. The sidewalks were slippery but she didn't have time to take it into too much consideration since she was already late and she was running towards the train station that was, sadly, nine blocks away. Multitasking her run with making sure she didn't slip, she looked through her bag to make sure she had all her things – a laptop, a notebook, a soft covered history text, her homework, pens, and of course her iPod.

Running up the subway stairs she swiped her metrocard in a flash and ran up to the train platform and caught the train that was already beginning to shut its doors on her. Almost gloating with joy that the car she had made in was empty, she realized the distinct odor or rather a distinct _stench_ that permeated the air.

Not knowing whether to scream or cry she made a pained expression with her face as she took in the sight of a very dirty homeless person with many possessions tied in garbage bags that surrounded him. She moaned in distress, "…this is going to be a _very_ long day."

"Miss Uriquizá!"

The loud yell which she processed along with her name had been enough to get her to wake up out of her drowsy stupor. It wasn't her fault she fell asleep in class all the time if she got home so late from her courses.

"Y-yes Mr. Nigel?" She said sitting up quickly in her seat with her eyes wide with surprise.

"This is not nap time Ms. Uriquizá, I would appreciate it if you kept up with the rest of the class – your grade certainly isn't high enough for you to be _sleeping_ in my classroom."

The rest of the class snickered or looked at her sympathetically. She swore sometimes that the teacher did this on purpose sometimes merely to humiliate her.

"Now if you please, Miss, could you tell us how many more points do we need on this titration curve in order to break our buffer?"

Today _was_ going to be a long day…

Uriquizá looked at her report card over for about the tenth time that day in between classes. Her grades were decent, a couple of Bs, a few As, and of course that one big _D_ in the middle of it all. And naturally it had to be that one class which she had come to hate with vivacity – Chemical Analysis.

Hell, it wasn't even a required course but she had stuck herself in that mess two years ago out of a whim of the moment. Her school was a bit strange being one of the top science and technology schools in New York so they did this weird thing where they forced kids to pick these "course packages" where you took classes that would supposedly pertain to a pretend 'major.' So – out of an impulse of the moment where she had thought through some strange logic that if she took Computer Science classes or Applied Physics she'd be the only girl, and at the time her shy nature made her nervous about being the only female surrounded by a 'sausage feast', as her classmates had so delicately put – she didn't take anything related to what she wanted. It wasn't until she had started her mechanical college courses that her shyness had rubbed off a bit, making her a little more apt in dealing with social pressures.

_So_, stupidly placing herself towards academic doom, Uriquizá chose the Chemistry package – and what a package it was! She didn't hate chemistry in reality but it just wasn't….her thing. She had been fascinated by the subject when she thought of the possible major of viticulture or enology which was the science of growing grapes and processing wine. She had thought that up since her parents wouldn't have been too happy if they knew that she wanted to go to Cuba to study automotive mechanics. Applied physics would have been a better choice if she wanted something closer to her heart's calling but she saw herself bored with too much theory and not enough practicality.

To say that she regretted her choice of chemistry right on the spot wasn't _too_ much of an exaggeration since she really was not happy with her choice. She was just horrible at the subject and it didn't make any sense to her at all. Was she ever going to need to make a titration curve in her life again? Did it matter? Brakes, transmissions, motherboards – that all made perfect sense, but who cared about acid constants and buffers?

Obviously not her.

"How's your report card?" asked an Asian girl she recognized from some of her other classes.

"Could be better," Uriquizá replied without really taking her eyes off that **D**.

"Nigel being a jackass?"

"Heh, that's about right, except he hates me more for being in his class than anything else."

"Taylor says that he's Republican…"

Uriquizá looked at the girl squarely at hearing _that_ piece of information. "_Really?_ Well, that would explain _some _things."

"Yeah, well you _have_ sort of built up a reputation for yourself. Miles says they can't get you to shut up in government class, and we all know _your_ views by now."

"Do you think…do you think Nigel knows?" Uriquizá asked curiously. It would explain a lot of the unreasonable meanness he showed towards her in class.

"Well…"started the Asian girl, "it's not like it's a big secret, and you are pretty active on the progressive side. He probably knows."

"I thought teachers were supposed to be blind on those things."

"Yeah and I'm supposed to do my homework every night. You're just going to have to face it – Nigel's out to get you and the fact that chemistry isn't your strength, it must piss him off even more."

Sighing in between resignation and frustration, she folded her report card and stuck it in her pocket. "Whatever, it's meaningless. I've already sent out most of my college applications – they can't reject me last minute because I'm close to failing Nigel's class when I've always been on the "ifsy" side in chemistry."

"Good luck on that then, I've got to go to Calculus now, see ya."

"Bye."

So what if she was a lefty on most issues, what did that have to do with chemistry? If Nigel wanted war, then she'd give it to him – it's not like she ever kept her views a secret but maybe she'd been a little more than loud on what she thought about the government, the school, conservatives…

Smirking quietly to herself, Uriquizá thought of what she could 'accidentally' bring up in class tomorrow, '_Let's see…hmm, Giuliani's a fascist and Mary _wasn't _a virgin…"_

Yes, she had something to look forward tomorrow when she woke up. It would definitely be fun.

"…As you know in the mid 1600s until around the late 1700s new ways of thinking were beginning to come up to the surface such as the Enlightenment Age in Europe that was also reflected in the form of thinking during the American Revolution and in the making of the constitution, Declaration of Independence, and other such documents," stated the monotonous voiced teacher.

He was an old man of a fragile structure with a scrawny build and pale complexion. His hands were thin and tired yet still carried hints of past hardships. His face was tensed and wrinkles were visible suggesting his age to be around 60 or so. He wore large round glasses with thick black frames. His attire was formal, as always, and he had an air of severity and of little patience.

"However, the Caribbean is an utterly different story. After the English conquests of the Caribbean land, it became a popular place for hectic and chaotic action. Buccaneers, for instance, had become quite the popular type of cri-"

"Captain Hook and Peter Pan!" Yelled a student in the back while another added a "Shiver me timbers! Captain Morgan!"

Earning a stern look from the elderly teacher and a giggle or two from the class he addressed the student who had made the first outburst.

"Mr. Atkins, I will not tolerate random outbursts in this class while I am teaching a lesson, especially with such infantile essence…that is unless you would like to add an explanation to such immaturity?"

Atkins simply looked down at his desk while shaking his head in a no.

"As for you Mr. Kime," he said turning to the other student who had made the second outburst, "I'd prefer if you kept your brigand terminology and alcoholic tendencies to yourself,"

With a grin Kime retorted like his wise-ass self. "Aww, Mr. Crichton, a little rum never hurt anybody."

**BEEEEEEEEEEEP!**

The bell rang and class was fortunately over. European and Global History was definitely a load full but at least it was a good way of getting her credit the _easy_ way. Her classes were usually tedious or silly like this one was today but besides that everything ran normal - the daily insufferable routine.

Luckily the day was about to end, so she had a couple of classes left and then it would be getting away from this hell hole for her. '…_and closer to tomorrow so I can torture dear Mr. Nigel_.'

It was foggy outside and clouds covered almost every inch of visible sky. It was dark and gloomy like almost every winter she could remember and of course it was freezing.

'_So much for global warming,'_ she thought to herself looking at the sidewalk as most of the students were leaving off to the nearing train stations.

Uriquizá walked head down, staring at the floor, deep in thought until someone grabbed at her arm.

"You're leaving already? I thought you were going to wait for me," questioned her assaulter who had dragged her to one of the school door entries that was closed.

"I forgot…" She said shrugging a little flustered by being so suddenly startled.

"That's the problem, you always forget." Her assaulter responded to her excuse.

"Why, what do you want Frankie?" Uriquizá asked, irritated by the unexpected detain.

"I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a problem with that or am I wasting too much of your precious time?" She had an aggravated look on her face with a little hint of hurt.

Frankie was probably one of her closest friends. She was the same and yet the complete opposite of herself. Frankie was her height with facial expressions too cynical, eyes too dark to be honey colored, and with hair too dirty to be blonde. Not literally dirty but just a really dark blonde – a dirty blonde. It was cut up to her shoulder but always placed in a messy bun and with bangs in her face. Her lips were too pinched and they were adorned with a cut running along her lower lip. She wore a black leather jacket that had begun to fade from weariness over the years. Her pants were black jeans that were ripped in various areas around her legs. She looked like a rogue and she sure as hell was one, but even then she managed to be the more feminine of the two. Oh, right, and you can't forget the fact that she had _too_ _much_ of an English accent to live in NYC.

Frankie leaned against the side wall of the doorway while Uriquizá herself leaned against the door.

A small frown painted her lips while she stared at Frankie. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm just messing with you. All you need is to wank off a bit and you'll feel better." Frankie grinned playfully. "But I did want to talk to you, unless you have plans in hanging with that Asian click of yours." Her face twisted up into an 'as-if-expected' expression.

"Why?" She asked her teasingly. "Jealous, Frankie?"

As if she hadn't expected a lesser answer she smirked at the remark. "Of course not, you know better than anyone else that you love me too much to stop being my bitch. Besides, why hang out with the fobs when you have me? It's not like I came all the way from London just to be put down by your arse."

Uriquizá simply replied by sticking up a middle finger. "So, what did you want to talk to me about anyway?"

"You know about how I told you that I wasn't too sure about this Social Science majoring bullshit, right?"

"Heh, how could I forget?"

If Frankie was one thing she was untamed. To add to that she was unstable when it came to her studies and the academics. That automatically made major choosing a living _hell_ for her. In fact, she changed ideas more often than she changed her wardrobe – she had the leather jacket ever since they met.

"Don't give me that look. Just listen," Frankie said seriously, "I've been newly inspired to continue my major."

Uriquizá, being the more cynical one, gasped falsely. "And what has inspired thou child to continue thy major?" The theatrics were _always_ necessary when it came to Frankie.

"Well, besides the fact that my theology Professor is _so_ hot that I want to jump him, I've gotten worked up on a topic."

"Theology Professor?" She questioned doubtfully. "You mean from that college course you're taking, right?"

"Gods, yes! You didn't think I meant the _school_ theology teacher, Mr. Crichton, who happens to be your Euro-Global teacher too!" Frankie spoke with this bewildered disturbed face. "Probably the only reason I bothered taking the course."

"I was about to say," she laughed heartedly, "never would have considered Mr. Crichton a sex appeal. Not much of your type either Frankie."

"Don't laugh too much. I'll be needing your help."

"With?"

"My thesis."

She stood still and gave Frankie a stern look. "I'm _not_ writing your thesis for you."

Frankie automatically sucked her teeth. "Don't be stupid. I actually plan on doing this on my own."

The cynical one snickered.

"What," Frankie raised an eyebrow, "you don't think I can do this by myself? All I need is your help. That's all."

"What class?"

"I already told you – theology, Wiccan theology, which in any case might crossover into anthropology." She said while staring at the student free streets.

"No."

"Why not?" Frankie turned her glance. "No, let me guess, is it because it's for my theology class, right?"

Uriquizá didn't bother answering that.

"I knew it – you and your anti-religion bullshit." Frankie rolled her eyes. "I promise this won't interfere with your atheist standards or anything."

"What exactly do you need my help for?"

"…An experiment…"

It was her turn to raise a brow. "What type of experiment?"

"The topic for my thesis is about the Faith and it's a study of behavior towards Wiccan invocation and such…it's a ritual…"

Her eyes widened in between anger and disappointment. She shut her eyes and slumped further against the door. "I'm not going to be your fucking guinea pig." She spoke menacingly. "Why can't you do it on your own?"

Frankie smirked. "What? Are you afraid? I can't do it by myself. It's a two person process…I _need _your help."

"Can't you get anyone else to help you?"

"I don't trust anyone else to help me."

"Look Frankie, I don't want to be part of your little witchcraft experiment. Do you think I'm stupid or what? I know that one session for an experiment is _not_ enough for a thesis no matter what subject your proposal is on. What if something 'happens'?"

"Nothing is going to 'happen'!" She yelled impatiently.

"You're stepping on dangerous territory Frankie." Uriquizá said with a certain edge. "Do you even know what you're actually going to do?"

"I thought you didn't believe in anything, so what's all this fear for the faiths now?"

"I don't fear any religion for your information and even though I don't believe, it doesn't mean I don't _respect_ it."

"Look I promi-, no I _swear_, that nothing will happen to you."

"Really? If nothing happens then how do you plan on writing your thesis?"

Frankie's gaze moved desperately as if searching for an excuse. "You were the one that said we were a team – you the techy/scientific and I the psychological. Didn't we agree that one day, _one day_, we would spark revolution around the world and achieve the _true_ communist dream?" She argued falsely. "Think about it as if it were for _humanity_."

"Don't be fresh Frankie. Don't bring my idealism into this. And you of all people should know what I think about religions. Since when has religion done _anything_ for humanity?"

It was obvious that Frankie had found herself in a tight spot, but she wasn't about to begin pleading for anyone's help.

"If you don't want to help me, fine. I always have other means…of support. Besides, all I needed was the psychological…not like the ritual will necessarily work…"

"I…" She sighed deeply thinking about the situation.

_I can't believe I'm about to do this…_

"What time do you want to me to come over so we can start?"

Frankie's eyes lit up immediately. "Knew you wouldn't let me down!" She glowed…almost literally; however her response was the malicious exclamation that only she could possibly butter up. The excitement was so visible it was almost radiating off her. "Come tonight around 7:00 or 8:00 alright?"

"Tonight?" Uriquizá inquired. "You better be waiting for me at the station. I'm not walking to your apartment alone. At night. In Manhattan."

"Don't worry; I'll walk you to my place from the station. So see you then?"

"…Yeah…"

Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. There wasn't a single dull moment with her to be honest but she was manipulative and she was impulsive. Sure, it was refreshing since she often pushed Uriquizá to do crazy things that she often didn't want to do but that never stopped the rushes of adrenaline she'd get out of it.

She had meet Frankie years ago at a seminar about the World Wide Web and how business used the internet as a way to use people for their own profits – companies like YouTube that simply provided space for people to upload videos sharing them around the world and thus creating one of the most popular and one of the most richest corporations known to the Web. Frankie, who had sat next to her at the seminar made some snarky comment something like, "Capitalist bastards, you'd think people would've realized by now that they're making money off of _our_ videos."

After that, they had immediately became friends – later she found out that Frankie lived in London with her parents who weren't millionaires but close enough. Out of the whim of the moment Frankie said her parents liked New York and were planning to move except she was unsure of what school to go to. Uriquizá mentioned her school and Frankie decided then and there that she would go to her high school and that was inevitably the start of an interesting and intriguing friendship.

Except now after three years or so of knowing Frankie, she finally realized that the girl was a little crazy if not unstable. At first she had taken her ideas as stimulating but after the energy rush of hanging out with her and doing crazy stunts she realized that maybe Frankie was just slightly insane. Or perhaps she had been spoiled to the point that she felt she could do whatever she wanted, whenever and wherever. Sometimes it was rather frightening.

Detaching herself from that train of thought she tried concentrating on her work again.

Uriquizá looked down at the chemistry homework she was supposed to do. One thing was pissing off Mr. Nigel, but she didn't necessarily want to bring her grade down further. She did a few more calculations until she had enough and put away the work.

A soft click of a door opening reached her ears as she looked to see who had walked in. It was her mother.

"Hola mama."

"Hola mi hija, ¿como esta? ¿Como le fue hoy día?" said her mother, always with this gentle tone that made Uriquizá wonder if she deserved having such caring parents…or mother at least.

"Bien."

"¿Me podrías ayudar con guardar las cosas?" the older woman asked while carrying the groceries in her arms.

Dutifully, Uriquizá walked over and began putting the food away in the cabinets and the fridge.

"¿Comiste algo?"

"No."

"Pero mi hija, ¡Como va estar desde la mañana sin comer! Le preparo algo al tiro," her mother said while fussing to begin to cook immediately. She always fussed when it came to her daughters nutritional welfare. Perhaps it was a cultural motive but whatever it was, Uriquizá often found that although it was touching on many levels…it was also a bit annoying.

"No mamá, no te preocupes que voy a ir donde Frankie." The news caught her mother unawares since it was strange that her daughter would go out on a school night – even if it was for a project.

"¿Hoy día vas ha ir?"

"Si, es que tengo que hacer una tarea con ella," She told her mom who was looking at her like she didn't like the idea of her going to Frankie's.

"No me vayas a llegar muy tarde que no me gusta cuando teni que caminar sola desde el tren oscuras."

"Ya se mamá," Uriquizá said rolling her eyes at her mother's nagging, "Mira que tengo que irme. Vuelvo luego. Ciao."

"Ciao, mi amor, que le vaya bien, que le cunde," Her mother said as she kissed her cheek goodbye.

She walked out of the house and made her way towards the train station for the second time that day wondering, '_I just hope Frankie's on time for once.'_

Her watch glowed in bright red digits – **19:37**.

_Where is that stupid blond bitch?_

Almost as if she had her mind read, Frankie sneaked up from behind her and grabbed her arm. Uriquizá found herself with her heart up her throat.

"Aren't we jumpy?" A smirk of complete satisfaction graced Frankie's mouth.

"_You'll_ be jumpy if I decide not to help you with your stupid thesis."

Suddenly Frankie's smirk faded into a deep scowl.

'_Serves her right.'_

"Teh. Whatever. Let's get going." Frankie said while dragging her through the station exit. "Oh, I forgot to mention that you'll need to wear…different attire."

"Different attire?" Her eyebrows arched up questioning the news.

"Robes…if you will."

Uriquizá looked at Frankie in the most astonishing manner. "Robes? What is this," her voice turned mockingly with a hint of annoyance, "Harry Potter?"

Frankie stared sternly at her.

"Oh no and let me guess, after we do the little Wiccan ritual I'll get a letter home saying I've been accepted into Hogwarts." She said teasing her friend. "And then I'll go to platform 9 ¾ which is between Utica and Nostrand, somewhere in Bedford-Sty'." It truly was comical if you saw it from her point of view.

"Shut up," Frankie spoke trying not to laugh even though she was angry. "Are you high or something…?"

"Mr. Potter…our…new…celebrity…" She imitated Professor Snape from _Harry Potter_ or rather the actor who played the role in the movie.

That was it – Frankie began to crack up slowly and unsettling as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or not. "You're," more laughter chokes, "a pot head."

"Alan Rickman as Severus Snape is so sexy…"

Frankie laughed further. "You're sick."

"_That_ coming from the Brit who thinks Mr. Crichton is hot?"

Frankie punched her in the arm playfully. "I told you that I didn't mean Mr. Crichton!"

They both giggled and laughed stupidly until they had reached the apartment. As Frankie opened the door to the building, she asked - "Why are you so giggly?"

"`Cause I'm nervous…I mean aren't you?" she asked seriously now. "After all, _you're_ the one basically narrating this whole Hocus Pocus crap."

Frankie sighed. "It's just trial and error, nothing's going to _really_ happen."

"I guess it's just fear of the unknown then…"

Smiling softly, Frankie spoke. "Don't worry, besides, I got you a really nice robe."

Now that Frankie had opened her apartment door, she saw how large it was, nicely decorated with simplicity, and most likely expensive.

"Don't tell me your parents are renting this place _permanently_."

"Why? It's cheap, about £6,243 a month."

"Which is…?" Uriquizá asked pressingly using her hands to indicate her friend to go on.

"About $12,000 a month"

Ouch…

"I hate you. You make it sound so modest, like everyone can afford it."

Frankie snickered. "We lost the revolution, you lost the luxuries."

"Yeah, whatever." She looked at the blonde with a look that said, 'Easy for you to say'.

"Don't get mad, get glad." Frankie said imitating the commercial. She was going through her closet in her room until she took out a thin white robe. It was made of cotton, very fine, and very thin.

"Take off your clothes." Holding out the robe, Frankie said.

"What?"

"…Take off your clothes."

"All of them?"

Frankie looked at her blankly. "Yeah and then put on the robe."

"But it's almost _transparent_." Uriquizá said almost dreadfully.

"Oh my god," Frankie said unbelievably, "I promise I won't rape you."

She began to giggle. "Are you sure?"

Frankie sighed in annoyance with a growl and threw the robe at her and left the room so she could change.

Undressing quickly, Uriquizá took off her clothes and put on the thin robe. It _was_ a bit see-through and it clung to her skin. The robe went up to her knees with a flow at its ends. Taking the waist straps, she tied it around her waist for the sake of decency.

She walked out from the room and saw Frankie gathering two thick books – one an earthy greenish-brown and the other a faded black.

"Why aren't _you_ 'dressed appropriately' for the ritual?"

"I am." Frankie stated simply. The difference was that she had taken off her leather jacket.

"Wow," Uriquizá said sarcastically, "you took off your second skin."

Frankie grinned like the smartass she was. "That should be an honor for you."

"You're so full of yourself." She said while rolling her eyes.

"No shit. Let's get going before I start taking off any _more_ of my clothes."

She laughed a bit and then asked. "Where are we going? I thought we were doing the thing inside the apartment."

"No, we are doing the _ritual_ somewhere else inside the building." Frankie informed her in correction.

Putting on a pair of flip-flops that Frankie lent her, Uriquizá put on her jacket over the robe, just in case anyone saw them in the corridors. Leaving the apartment, they went down the basement where the indoor pool was kept.

But when she saw the indoor pool, she couldn't believe her eyes.

Everything was perfectly decorated. The room itself was of a Roman style but the detail only increased with the décor. There were incense at every corner of the pool and there was a vast amount of candles that were already beginning to melt – somewhere white and others were black and she caught sight of dark red one as well. Frankie had already set up a smooth surface with utilities as an altar. And lastly, the pool water was covered with rose petals.

"Frankie, how did you…"

"- mange to do all of this?" She finished for her with the with her wiseass smile. "Well, I told the owners that it was part of this school project and that I was going to do it in the evening and they said there was no problem as long as I cleaned up afterwards.

"Oh…" Uriquizá said speechless.

"Well? What are you waiting for, get in." Frankie indicated towards the pool.

"Why?"

"Because, it's part of the ritual." She stated as a-matter-of-factly. "Oh, and put loose your hair."

She stared icily at Frankie. Was this really all part of the ritual? The girl took off her jacket, loosened her hair, and walked into the pool with her robe on. The water was surprisingly warm, didn't smell of chlorine, and was oddly thicker.

"What did you do to the water?"

"I added some aromatherapy fragrances and I used regular warm tap instead of chlorine water."

Frankie went back to her books and there was an uncomfortable silence.

_It's times like these where I can almost hear the jeopardy song…_

"Um Frankie…"

"Sorry about that, just lie on your back and calm your mind – just relax."

Uriquizá laid floating on her back and let the feel of the water cling to her skin through the robe along with the caresses of the rose petals. Her eyes closed and her senses were now overwhelmed with the smell of incense and driftwood fragranced candles. Her hair spilled on the water and for a moment there was a sudden tranquility where everything faded and all she could hear was the slight movement of the water against her skin and against her ears.

"Found it!" called Frankie's voice which sounded an octave higher than usually. The sound snapped her eyes open and she couldn't help but feel a little goaded from being disturbed.

"Found what?" Uriquizá yelled back.

"The ritual page," She said looking over the pages in the book. "So…ok, let's start."

Frankie's face now hovered above her. Her friend had floated near one of the edges of the pool. "You're right the robe is transparent, I can see your boobies."

Uriquizá gave Frankie the strongest death glare yet to come and reached out to slap her. However, Frankie simply moved away, continued on and ran her fingers through the pages of the greenish-brown book. She left the black one at her side, closed.

"Alright just relax and we'll get started. I'll tell you the instructions in a bit." Frankie had a wooden branch on the altar and a double-bladed dagger along with it crossing each other. There was also a silver chalice of a medium size. "Stay where you are and simply cross your wrists on your chest…like a mummy."

Uriquizá followed Frankie's instructions and floated in that position near Frankie and the altar.

Frankie began the invocation with an assured yet gentle voice. "_Blesséd Niksa, I call to you across the Veil between the Worlds! Enter this sacred space that she may feel Your presence and know that You are truly here!_

Frankie knelt before the altar and continued. "_Bless her feet that walk the sacred path. Bless her knees that kneel before the Old Ones. Bless her womb, the symbol of Goddess fertility. Bless her breasts, the symbol of the Goddess and Her nurturing power. Bless her lips that sing praise to the Goddess and the God. She honors the Goddess within her."_

She paused. "Put your arms outstretched now."

Putting her arms outstretched the brunette felt nervous, catching on to the sense that as if it was inappropriate to do the ritual.

Frankie's voice began to resounded off the walls of the room.

"_We are made male and female. Therefore, the Goddess and the God inhabit all creatures, just as They do all creation. The Goddess within her empowers her soul._

"_I call You, Great Niksa, to come through the Veil and be with me here. Fill her body with Your holy presence. Bless her with Your presence and power. Through Your wisdom and Your great Otherworld energy, fill her life with renewing power. As seed becomes bud, and bud becomes flower, and flower becomes fruit, so shall she flower and fruit with good health, prosperity, happiness, and spiritual growth. She gives you honor, Great Niksa!_

"_Proud and beautiful as the moon on high that races across midnight sky, the Goddess blesses her joyful rite. Her glory fills her inner sight. She throws Her signs in fire and smoke, in chalice wine. Her she invokes into this willing soul in the vicinity of the altar, a transformed being, Niksa-daughter. She consecrates in awe and chants the run. All honor to the Guardian of Water!_

The blonde held up the wooden branch that seemed to be the wand and then depicted the sign of a pentagram in the air.

"_The five-pointed star of love and power she blesses you with this holy hour. Pray to her when the moon is round, and good things she promises will abound. I charge you follow her ancient ways with joy and bliss through all your days."_

With that, Frankie finished the ritual and stood up silently. She looked at her friend floating simply in the pool. The girl had her eyes closed with what seemed to be either fear or…antipathy. "…Do you feel anything…?"

Uriquizá opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling blankly. "No…was I supposed to?"

"I'm not sure, the book doesn't say."

"You don't _know_?" She asked Frankie with a certain rim the question. "You mentioned something about 'transformed being'…"

"No, I don't _know_ and as for that line, it's metaphorical probably, I doubt it's literal. It's just a way to honor the goddess and the water guardian Niksa."

"For your sake it better not be literal or else I _will_ hurt you Frankie, _badly_."

"Whatever…just wait a couple of seconds and we'll see what happens…"

Uriquizá didn't like the sound of that. Actually it sounded a little like she was waiting for something to happen. She didn't like waiting. The anxiousness was get to her quickly and it made her feel overwhelmingly nervous. Her eyes caught a movement near the altar. Frankie was fingering the worn out black book and then that's when she saw something in Frankie's face – a look of hesitation and mischief at the same time.

_She's up to something. I _knew _it. What is that book for…not to mention that dagger…_

"Frankie, what _are _you doing?"

Taken by surprise, Frankie dropped the book with a paper sounding clang. "…Nothing…I was just looking for what's supposed to happen afterwards…"

_Yeah sure, my ass._

It wasn't that she didn't trust Frankie; it was simply that she knew how Frankie always had curiosity get the better of her. Uriquizá ignored the nagging in her mind and tried to relax. However…she found it somewhat difficult to do so. Something was out of place.

Her insides felt strange. Chills were running gently through her body. Her skin, it wasn't right. There was something touching her…_everywhere_. Something she couldn't quite place.

'…_**Epona…'**_

At first she wasn't sure if she had heard it. The heavy sighed out word that plagued her ears with a strange word in a strange language…But then she heard it again, the familiar sound.

"Frankie…did you just sigh?"

Still looking at the ebony book she responded tentatively. "…No…why?"

"I thought I heard something…"

This time Frankie didn't respond she kept reading the book. Uriquizá, on the other hand was trying to keep calm. It was then that the something changed. A feeling took over her insides. Something was _touching_ her; it was as if it were enveloping her body.

"Frankie!"

"_What?_" Frankie jeered almost angered.

"I-I don't feel good Frankie. Something's going on!" Frankie simply ignored her. "Are you fucking listening to me, Frankie?"

After that, her vision blurred. Flashes of blue colors flashed through her mind. Then the sound of the weighty yet refined exhale was in her mind.

Her eyes were closed shut tightly from the strange flashings and feelings. She couldn't help but ask questions in fear and confusion about the voice and the mood.

_What are you…?_

Surprisingly, it seemed to have responded within her mind.

'_**L-Leviatan…'**_

Uriquizá groaned in feeling a movement within her body. She tossed in the pool and felt herself begin to lose against whatever was taking over.

Frankie now stood up and moved from the altar to the pool where her friend seemed to struggle against herself.

The opportunity was now.

Millions of questions crossed through Frankie's mind. What if it _worked_? What if things weren't as false as they were set to be? In that case there was only one way to fully find out – to go further.

Taking the black book and the Chalice she neared the pool and grabbed her friend from her chin and read from the pages.

"_Nema! Livee morf su revilled tub, Noishaytpmet ootni ton suh deel, Suh tshaiga sapsert tath yeth, Vigrawf eu za sesapsert rua suh vigrawf. _

"_Derb ilaid rua yed sith suh vig, Neveh ni si za thre ni, Nud eeb liw eyth, Muck mod-ngik eyth, Main eyth eeb dwohlah, Neveh ni tra chioo, Rertharf rua!"_

Frankie recited the same lines two more times and then opening her friend's mouth, she poured some of the black liquid contents in her friend's mouth. She went back to the book.

"_To the south I call, and into the flames of Hell: Satan, I invoke thee. Satan, I summon thee. Satan, I conjure thee. Come forth, Satan, and manifest thyself. _

She now was pointing at her friend.

"_Within this body, within this temple which I have prepared. Come forth, Satan, and manifest thyself. Come forth, Satan, and manifest thyself. Open wide the Gates of Hell that she may cross and become like you. Open wide thy Gate that she may cross. Come forth, Satan, and manifest thyself. Come forth, Satan, and manifest thyself._

Repeating three times once again she took the chalice and brought it to her friend's lips.

"_She is Satan; She is Lucifer; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is Belial; She is Leviatan; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is the south; She is the east; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is the north; She is the west; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is in fire; She is in air; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is in earth; She is in water; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is Satan; She is Lucifer; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is Belial; She is the Leviatan; She is the Devil Incarnate. She is the Devil Incarnate._

Replicating her action as previous she continued.

"_Into the Abyss I call; to the depths of Hell I call; to the Antichrist I call:  
Antichrist, I invoke thee. Antichrist, I summon thee. Antichrist, I conjure thee._

Frankie's holding was becoming more difficult for her friend's thrashing was more feverish now.

"_Come forth, Antichrist, and manifest thyself. Within this body, this temple which I have prepared. Come forth, Antichrist, and manifest thyself. Come forth, Antichrist, and manifest thyself. For she has crossed the Gates of Hell and she has become the Devil Incarnate. She is Satan; She is Lucifer; She is Belial; and She is Leviatan. Come forth, Antichrist, and manifest thyself."_

Finally, Frankie poured the remains of the black fluid into the other girl's mouth and let her go to flay in the pool at her own will. Although Frankie was scared at how strange her friend was reacting she was more overly curious and thus she didn't regret playing with fire by adding a bit of _flavor_ to the ritual.

Looking as if she had major seizures, the girl in the pool was splashing wildly until suddenly she came to a halt.

For the girl in the water, everything had gone out of control from her very being. Her senses so high and the voices in her head didn't stop. They spoke intricately, almost Germanic but much richer, more bold…it was the sound of sin and it was beautifully _forbidden_. Yet along with voices were the sounds of a thousand violins, music so lovely and dangerous. It was perfectly dark and it made her very core cry…But at the same time it felt so familiar. She saw dark colors that alternated from black to red to burgundy and other darks however here then she saw white along with dark blue and dark green. Her vision had blurred the world as she knew it and the very breath for oxygen seemed so distant…

Frankie kept staring at her friend's sudden gasp for air. It startled and fed her curiosity. Uriquizá chest rose while her back arched and her body limped into the water with dark locks of hair spilled out. A sudden change took place now. Her friend's body became a dark shade of tan – almost bronze. Marks appeared on her flesh. Wait no, not simply marks – tattoos. They were scattered around her entire body in the color of an inky black. The symbols that were represented ranged from Celtic symbols, variety of crosses, pentagrams, ancient hieroglyphics, and other intricate designs that she couldn't identify. All she knew was that her friend was covered with them from head to toe. Then, in a moment's pause the symbols began to fade in the same manner they had appeared along with the skin tone leaving her friend's shamble body floating in the pool.

Not realizing she had been holding her breath, Frankie sucked in air sharply and then dashed to the edge of the pool. She grabbed a lifeless arm and then grabbed the girl's waist pulling out her friend desperately from the pool. She pumped her hands against her friend's chest and with success the girl's fogged eyes snapped open. Uriquizá began to spit out all the water contents she had build up in her throat without swallowing. The brown tinted water that the girl spat out splattering the tiled floor had not failed to catch Frankie's sight.

Uriquizá took in deep breaths. All that had happened in a manner of seconds had now seemed to have coursed through fully in her mind. She had _left_. She had gone to somewhere where normality could not come close to. It was then she saw Frankie staring at her like a deer in the headlights. She felt the anger rise and it took almost everything for her to remain calm.

"What did you do to me Frankie…?"

"I-I…"

Her voice didn't waver one bit but the animosity was clearly leaking in her tone. "What the _fuck_ did you do to me Frankie?"

Frankie stared at her for a moment and then straightened herself out. She stood up and looked at her friend's weak condition and the disorganized manner that the robe was now placed on her body to cover the minimal. "I did the ritual just like I had planned," she was now biting her lower lip, "but…I…went further. I didn't just do that Wiccan ritual on you…I-I mixed some satanic rituals that had nothing to do with the original plan…"

Uriquizá stared up at Frankie with wide eyes that looked up in mixed confusion.

Frankie looked down at the floor, too ashamed to stare straight at her friend. "When I decided to do this project, I hadn't really meant it to work…It was an experiment to test your nerves and how far you could come close to the brink of insanity while simply fucking with your mind…I hadn't planned on anything happening and when it did…well, curiosity got the better of me…The thesis was actually for psychology…how the mind can convince the body into feeling symptoms that aren't necessarily realistic…"

Rage was building up with in the brunette's body. Uriquizá was trembling not only from the cold wetness but from her urge to take out her anger. Cautiously standing up on the floor she stared dead straight at Frankie. Without warning she raised her hand and brought it down in a loud 'slap' on Frankie's cheek. It literally left her hand mark stamped on the dirty blonde's face. Frankie placed her hand on her cheek from the impact. Wincing at the pain, her eyes began to tear; not from the pain but rather more from the anger her friend showed towards her.

"You have _no_ idea what the fuck happened while you were playing around with your little chants and sacraments." Her body was shaking from the cold and her fists clenched at her sides. "I fucking saw _it_. I _saw_ these gates that were black and carved," she was digging her nails so hard into her palm that she had begun to bleed, "and the figures _looked_ at me and _spoke_ to me and all the while I had fucking Nine Inch Nails learning to play Satanism 101 in my fucking head!

"There were _voices_ at the beginning. Female voices that said weird words like leviaton or leviathen – whatever. And now you're telling me this was all some fucking mind game that you had going on?"

Uriquizá grabbed her jacket put it on and left the room to get her clothing at Frankie's apartment. Frankie on the other hand was about to leave after her until she noticed something unsettling about the pool. The water was blood red and the rose petals were no longer their lovely scarlet but rather they were a velvet black that reminded her of a funeral…

_**I hope everyone liked it. More will be coming up with POTC guarantee included. So you know the rest, R&R! **_

_**Translations:**_

_Hola mama – _hello mom

_Hola mi hija_ – hello my daughter

_¿Como esta? ¿Como le fue hoy día?_ – How are you? How'd your day go?

_Bien_ – fine, good

_Me podrías ayudar con guardar las cosas_ – Could you help me put the things away

_¿Comiste algo?_ – Did you eat something?

_Pero mi hija, ¡Como va estar desde la mañana sin comer! __Le preparo algo al tiro_ – But daughter, How can you have not eaten anything since this morning! I'll prepare something immediately

_No mamá, no te preocupes que voy a ir donde Frankie_ – No mom, don't worry I'm going to Frankie's

_¿Hoy día vas ha ir?_ – You're going today?

_Si, es que tengo que hacer una tarea con ella_ – Yes, it's just that I have to do a homework with her

_No me vayas a llegar muy tarde que no me gusta cuando teni que caminar sola desde el tren oscuras_ – Don't come too late. I don't like it when you have to walk alone from the train in the dark

_Ya se mamá_ – I know mom

_Mira que tengo que irme. __Vuelvo luego. Ciao*_ – Look I have to go. I'll be back soon. Bye

_Ciao*, mi amor, que le vaya bien, que le cunde_ – Bye my love (maternal affection), good luck, work efficiently


	3. Between Two Worlds

**Chapter 3: Between Two Worlds**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

**Author's Note:** Yes people I'm not dead. I just haven't been writing. I'm _really_ sorry…  
I fixed this chapter and changed a lot because what I had first planned turned out being rather…silly. Now, I have a much more concrete idea on what I will be writing about and I think you guys should honestly look this chapter over again since I did add something new to it. I promise it will be very enjoyable in the end.

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**Between Worlds**

Uriquizá had come home late that night even though her mother had pleaded otherwise. But when she got home, at seeing her daughter looking so distraught the older woman completely forgot her intent on lecturing the girl and hugged her closely.

"Mi hija, ¿que te paso? ¿Por qué vienes con esa cara como de terror? No me digas que te hicieron algo." She asked with dulcet tones that betrayed anxiety and worry.

"No paso nada mamá…simplemente Frankie y yo ya no somos amigas."

"¿Pero porque mi hija? ¿Que te hizo esa muchacha?"

The girl didn't want to answer her mother's question. If she told her what Frankie had done, her mother would go into psycho mode – something even Uriquizá feared seeing because no matter how angry she was at Frankie and no matter how many times she wanted to hate the treacherous blonde…on the inside she knew she couldn't.

"Es – no sirve de amiga. Eso no mas."

"Ahí mi hija, ¿que puedo hacer para que te sientas mejor?"

"Nada, mamá. Anda acostarte. Voy a ponerme el pijama."

Her mother looked at her dubiously but said nothing and went off to bed, "Buenas noches entonces mi hija. Que duermas bien."

But she didn't sleep well that night, all she could do was toss and turn throughout the night in a feverish heat that made it impossible to relax.

White. It was simply that – white. White like the snow that makes use pure, white like _wite-out_, white like the white ceiling she was staring at now. _White_.

She stood like that for who knows how long. Thoughts from the previous night wandered through her head swiftly like broken off video clips – non-chronological, random, and even a bit incoherent. They went from Frankie to the ritual back to Frankie and then to the things she had seen. They suddenly settled on Frankie. Uriquizá remembered perfectly the slap she had given Frankie in anger and now that she thought about it, her anger sort of came back to her again. She clenched her fists against her sides in remembrance. She was still lying in bed unable to go back to sleep. She hadn't been able to sleep from the start and her pajamas were still slick and sweaty from her night fever. It made her feel inexplicably _dirty_.

Her clock glowed **6:13**. It was almost time to get ready for school but she wasn't worried about that at all. She was still preoccupied with the memories of last night. She had left Frankie's apartment in fury and when she got home she had taken all of Frankie's stuff, which Frankie herself had left on previous visits, into a separate bag. Frankie's stuff consisted of various articles of clothing including a pair of green converses, some band name T-shirts, a pair of UFO pants along with other accessories she didn't bother paying attention to but simply recognized as Frankie's. The bag now lay in a corner of her room with her messenger school bag. She planned on giving the native Briton all of her stuff back and that would be the end of her friendship with her _dearest_ friend…no matter how much it hurt.

**6:21** her clock glowed. It was time to get up.

Sidewalks are interesting in perhaps an unusual manner. Or at least they are in New York. You'll find all sorts of things on sidewalks – colorful patterns of gums, antique stains of all types of drinks imaginable or a fossilized footprint of some unwelcome pedestrian who didn't read the "Do Not Step" sign. However, the sidewalk didn't seem too particularly interesting to her at the moment. Uriquizá was walking at a quick New Yorker pace which in any case would be considered _normal_. She looked down at the ground blankly with her thoughts on how she was going to give back Frankie the bag with her stuff; either throwing it in her face or civilly hand it to her. The throwing sounded awfully tempting _but_ was going to most likely not happen…knowing herself and all.

Her ears were connected to the sound of her headphones, her feet were connected to the direction to school, and her thoughts were on last night. Everything else was on autopilot. Her mind was on the flashback of the ritual. The ritual that had _done_ something to her, something that had been left sensitive to the exterior. This morning when she had gone to take a shower, she could barely bathe without feeling the overwhelming sensations that water didn't normally produce. It was a breathtaking sensation. It was sentimental and it made her feel connected to the paranormal. The voices, the heavy sighs in her head came back with a single drop on her skin. It was wonderful and terrifying all at the same time. And it was all Frankie's fault!

'_It's your fault too. If only you hadn't accepted…'_

Yes, that was also true indeed. But was she supposed to expect some weird abnormal consequence?

'_Maybe I should have, with my luck…'_

She sighed helplessly when suddenly wet drops began to pour lightly… she realized it was beginning to rain.

'_Great no umbrella…Strange, they didn't say it was going to rain…'_

The rain became heavier and sooner than later, it began to pour. The water was having its unnatural toll on her as if it were the mentioning of the devil. She felt oddly tired with knees too weak to carry on and eyelids too heavy to stay up. The soft whisperings and the visions of those unforgettable black gates all came to her.

She collapsed on the sidewalk and watched as the streets were completely empty with forming puddles and no one to help her. She held her bag close as if it would help her hang onto consciousness. Her headphones still on and the iPod still playing, she heard the sound of a song that seemed so distant. Coincidentally, she heard the singing chant 'la historia del quemado' in other words, the story of the unlucky guy. Looking at her iPod, she was able to see the song title "Tequila" before the text went blurry and so did the rest of the world…

_Castro, Chiloé, 1720_

He was being tailed, he knew that. It was after all, a rather large massacre. One he easily justified on his own terms and which his conscience felt no responsibility for. It had been a very large ranch filled with men, women, and children alike. And now it had burnt to the ground with his very thorough work because not only had he set the whole ranch on fire but he had personally gone in after the flames had subdued to make sure that no _casualties_ were left. He had shot everyone he found between the eyes, down to the very last child.

Most would have wondered what man, what _demon_ could possibly commit such cruelty and overall insanity. It was one thing to kill men…and even women, but _children_? It was something beyond demonic…beyond comprehension of the mortal soul.

But he smirked and even snickered slightly at the truth of his actions. A 'murderer' most would say, others could argue – though few of them dared. And this brought a rather sickening grin on his face as his eyes beheld the horizon that was barely lit by the morning sun. It rose like fire from the watery depths, the same depths that his ship headed towards. It was glorious.

The helm's wood caressed his calloused palms as he stirred, the compass moved slightly in direction side to side but never really deviating from its true course – South.

He would go south, and then right when he neared the nearly insufferable cold and the icy temperatures that only existed near the curves of Cape Horn, he'd turn upwards and make his way up again on the other side of the continent.

He was being tailed, but he'd lose them. He'd lose them way before he made that icy turn. It would be in the Stretch of Magallanes – they rarely made it through, and he'd make sure they didn't. Only he could proudly claim to have crossed through a good six times and still live to tell about it. It was with good reason he was known as the Pirate of the End of the World.

The pirate smirked once more – it was getting colder. It didn't matter if they were tailing him: it was only a few galleons of the local navy.

He wondered how long it would take for the King to be notified and have the real Spanish Armada on his tail too – after all it's not everyday you murder a Viceroy and his entire family.

**Translations**

_Mi hija, ¿que te paso? ¿Por qué vienes con esa cara como de terror? __No me digas que te hicieron algo_ – My daughter, what happened to you? Why do you have that look of terror on your face? Don't tell me someone did something to you (referring to an assault)

No _paso nada mamá…simplemente Frankie y yo ya no somos amigas_ – Nothing happened mom…it's simply that Frankie and me aren't friends anymore

_¿Pero porque mi hija? ¿Que te hizo esa muchacha?_ – But why? What did that girl do to you?

_Es – no sirve de amiga. __Eso no mas _– It's just – she isn't a worthy friend. That's all.

_Ahí mi hija, ¿que puedo hacer para que te sientas mejor?_ – Oh my daughter, what can I do to make you feel better?

_Nada, mamá. Anda acostarte. Voy a ponerme el pijama._ – Nothing mom. Go to bed. I'm going to put on my pajamas.

_Buenas noches entonces mi hija. __Que duermas bien_ – Good night then, my daughter. Sleep well.

Some people last time asked me where I go all this information from so I might as well make a little bibliography at the bottom from now on. Here it is for this chapter and last chapter:

Last Chapter:

1. _Demonic Bible_ by Magus Tsirk Susej, Antichrist, Servant and disciple of the Dark Lord

2. _Wicca: The Complete Craft_ by D.J. Conway

This Chapter:

Most of it is coming from Wikipedia and a book I got in Chiloe when I was visiting.


	4. Anarchy in the UK

**Chapter 4: Anarchy in the UK**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

**Human Nature **

By Quilapayuna

**Anarchy in the U.K.**

_Port Royal, 1720_

The start of dawn is always quite a sight, or at least it was back in England. But now…it seemed as though he hadn't seen a decent sunrise in ages. The island's small surface area in the Caribbean Sea made it seem so insignificant to have the pleasure of part-taking in the art of dawn. No; daybreak was quick, to the point, and always catching him off guard.

_Not like back home…_

No, certainly not like back home; in England the sunrises were gradual, pleasurable to look at as the sun slowly peaked its way through the grass hills of the country. What eye vintage it was for one to behold such a sight! Or at least it would seem so now…after so many years from home it was the simple things that he had once taken for granted, which he missed.

So now, as he stared at the sharp horizon parting through the ocean that did little justice to his grassy hills, he found himself leaning against the balcony like stone walls of Fort Charles. His thoughts ran as he inhaled the distinct scent of the sea that he had smelled for the past twelve years since he took up his present assignment. Twelve years ago an offer to leave England in the name of the British militia would have been the greatest honor and of course the greatest _adventure_ to leave home for the colonies.

But at the present moment, as he looked at the water of the sea beyond the dock, he questioned his decision. Many men back home would have loved to take his place. What man would argue with having to guard a tropical island, a piece of Eden?

_Eden_…_when we first came here it was far from it…_

Ah yes. Port Royal had 'shaped-up' within the twelve years since he had come from England. Back then it had been in a sort of anarchy if one could say – a crime town that only made itself worthy as a pillage stop for the worst kind of thieves and criminals on water: Pirates.

But _that_ was twelve years ago. Now, Port Royal was prestigious to the English military forces among the Caribbean and the West Indies. It was a secure place to live and almost pirate threat-free guaranteed. And over the years the social tone of the town had gone from vulgar low-class to high class fancy. Even the peasants were of little ill breeding!

Yet, it had become predictably tedious to stay here in Port Royal guarding that small piece of paradise that they had successfully reformed. He no longer felt any satisfaction in crossing with filthy pirates or chasing them half-across the Caribbean Sea. No longer was their the excitement in _attempting_ to catch pirates that now had ships that could easily compete against any of those that the British Navy had. Many would say that the challenge should lift his spirits in trying to get those pirates hanged. And he had tried to see it that way as well but in reality…he had simply become bored of playing this game with pirates. His purpose in Port Royal had never been clear to him but now it was almost inexistent. Then again, with purpose or not he had to continue on for it was already a many twelve years too late for repent.

"Gillette!"

His name was called by no other than his superior - Captain Norrington. His superior was a man with well bred manners and amiable humor as well as handsome looking. But as agreeable as he was in his personal life, Gillette had come to learn that when on task, as Captain he was indifferent to his peers and his word was law.

Gillette walked towards his Captain, wondering what matter he could have to present to him since his duty did not begin until later. "Yes, sir?"

"Come now Charles, formalities aren't necessary at the moment."

Gillette smiled at Norrington. "Forgive me James, but I rather be safe than sorry."

The captain laughed heartily at Gillette's comment. "Worry not Charles; I won't sentence you to death for not calling me 'sir' or 'captain'!"

"Yes, I suppose not…but I still wouldn't like to receive any sort of punishment for forgetting my place."

James Norrington invited Gillette to accompany him for a walk around the fortress. They're stroll began in silence with the exceptions of the sounds of the ocean and the birds chirping. Eventually, the pause was cut by Norrington.

"I have been meaning to ask you when I had the opportunity," continued Norrington, "I wanted to ask you if these past twelve years have been to your…agreement in terms of your military career?"

The question came somewhat unexpected to Gillette. He had always felt that the friendship between Norrington and himself were at a good personal level of confidence but when it came to their occupations he felt a bit ashamed to ever admit what he _truly_ thought of his continuation in the Navy. He had always tried to give James the impression that he didn't miss England _that_ much.

"James, I'd feel better if you didn't ask me such questions without answering you at a biased level."

"Yes, I had concluded that much from your lack of enthusiasm."

Gillette's eyes looked at him in utter surprise.

"Charles, do not feel ashamed of my knowledge of what your heart truly feels," Norrington stated an almost exasperated tone, "If there is one of us to feel shame it is I for I cannot help but coincide with your own feelings…I have also lost some sense of purpose and interest in slaying piracy from these ports. I do not judge you my friend."

Gillette was at a loss for words. He could not picture his Captain, his friend, who had so passionately demonstrated what plans he had for doomed pirates that may cross his path in the Caribbean. It almost seemed that the man before him was not the superior he knew whose heartily interest was to rid the Caribbean of piracy once and for all.

"I know how your mind works Charles and it may sound completely incredulous that, why, only tomorrow at this time I will be preparing to be promoted from Captain to Commodore."

'_And I will…remain Lieutenant…' _thought Gillette a little disheartened. After all, since his coming from England he had not raised in rank but he could not say that he had placed much of an effort to receive that sort of _reward_. "Aye James, within another morrow you will be Commodore and I wish you the best in your promotion. Think not of any of this for it is far too late for regrets. Besides, there are _other_ things to look forward to James. I know you know that very well."

Norrington could not help but grin at Gillette's insinuation. Yes, James Norrington had his mind and eyes on _other_ things as well. Other things being more specifically Elizabeth Swann, the Governor's daughter that had grown into a fine woman. He planned on proposing to her after his promotion. The thought itself made him somewhat gleefully nervous. His own silence only further proved Gillette correct.

Both Gillette and Norrington continued their walk in their silent company when something caught Gillette's eye. "James…" he said looking down from the balcony stone walls of the fort, "is that…a person on the rocks?"

It hadn't been any different from what Gillette had said, there _was_ someone sprawled almost lifelessly on the jagged rocks. The ocean's waves were hardly any type of caress upon the body. The captain immediately ordered Gillette to recruit some of the other soldiers inside the fortress to go help investigate the body below.

The mood had quickly turned from friendly conversation to spontaneous military commandment, Gillette noticed. And he wasn't even due on duty yet until another few minutes…

Everything was _white_. White like medical cotton balls, white like brand new shoes, white like Clorox Bleach™ white. But then the blankness suddenly faded from behind her eyelids. And it was replaced by red, stinging pain-shot red. A pounding sharp twinge on the right side of her forehead was overwhelming her senses with ache. She felt it wet and warm. It took her a while to realize that the rest of her body hurt as well. There was also an irritating music that was playing, somewhat stuffed like inside her right ear. Registering barely, maintaining her eyes closed all the while, her hand made its way to her right ear and pulled out the earphone that was stuffed into it. She felt the warm wetness from her forehead on the earphone as well. Her left ear, also with an earphone, less stuffed in but still not making it any less irritating – she pulled that one also.

Her body ached unbelievably and the soreness was everywhere. She tried to open her eyes and was countered by more pain to her head. Her hands were numb along with other parts of her body that felt to be in an awkward position. The urge to question did not make the pain ease.

'_What happened…?'_

She was vaguely aware of anything besides the weariness of her body. It was sudden when she began to hear voices that felt somewhat from a far and that there was something cold and wet splashing alongside of the parts of her body that she could actually feel. The voices sounded louder now and nearer but she didn't care, she was too tired to really think into it. It was now that the voices became distinct to her and she could hear them talking with an accent – all male.

"It's a woman!" one of them said.

'…_Aren't you a genius…'_ She thought silently as they continued to speak.

"Do you think she's alive?"

"Well we won't find out unless we check," said another voice.

She felt somebody touch her neck trying to feel her pulse. She instantly groaned at the contact on her strained neck.

"She's alive!" said the nearest voice.

She felt her body being moves as they detached whatever was holding her down. She heard them say, "Here, you take these and we'll get her to the doctor." The sounds of ruffling and men picking her up were the last things she heard before she fell unconscious again.

Captain Norrington found himself watching as the men recruited back to the fort along with the body. He made his way to the medical wing of the fort and immediately told the doctor to prepare for a patient in possible critical state. Within a few minutes the men had made their way and were placing the body to a bed. Captain Norrington felt his curiosity ascend as he saw that the body was a woman who was dressed…bizarrely in what resembled men's clothes. He took notice of the most obvious injury that was on the side of her bleeding forehead. The doctor immediately said that the removal of the wet clothing was needed and slight stitching was required. He had some of his assistants take care of the other bruises and the clothing, while he tended to the sewing.

Norrington was not a man to pass up questioning, so when he immediately saw that the woman was going to be taken care of, he instantaneously asked himself 'where was she from?', 'how did she get to the rocks?', 'had anyone been responsible for her present state?', 'why was she wearing such strange dressing…?'. His curiosity did not seem to seize and when he had questions he always had them answered in one way or another.

Eventually the captain came around to interrogate them about the woman. "Is there any evidence or indication of where she is from?"

"Captain, sir," started one of the men, "she had these bags…and accessories with her."

"Very well, look over her things and see if you find anything that could indicate where she may come from."

With that, the men began to check vivaciously over the outlandish things that evidently belonged to the young woman. While both bags seemed strange to them, one was more so than the other. One was made of a strange almost elastic material that was thin and had no pores at all. The other bag was less strange since it was made of a rough cloth like material on the outside but once they figured out how to open the bag (by pulling on a small metal trinket to the opposite side along a type of trail) they realized that the inside of the bag was similar to the elastic material except that it was more cloth like. However, it wasn't until they looked within the bags that their shock and surprise began to take place. They took the things out carefully to make sure nothing broke. In the elastic like bag, there were articles of clothing, a pair of very green ostentatious shoes, and some other strange substances and devices. The almost normal looking bag held the greater surprise. Utilities, devices, contraptions, and wonders all in front of their eyes! Books – one large with pressed print of flawless ink like no other, the other thin with printed lines that held hand written words and sentences, and the last one similar to the large text except it was much compact also with perfect print. Unbeknownst to the men, they were pulling out Uriquizá's notebook, textbook, and other reading material.

However, what caught them more with astonishment was a thin rectangular device. It gave them quite a challenge to open – until they finally figured out that there was a small sliding trinket that permitted the upper part of the device to lift open. It was a strange contraption that opened up to be a black window on the upper inside of the lid and on the bottom a series of strange buttons with perfect printed letters, numbers, and other symbols, as well as commands that made no sense to the military men. They gently closed it again almost intimidated by the strange looking contraption; unknowingly they had come into contact with the girl's laptop.

Gillette saw at how the wonder of the men intensified as they revealed more and more of the possessions that belonged to the girl they had found among the rocks. Yet he still held in his pocket another accessory that he had picked up from the girl himself. Ignorant to what it was, he had no idea that in his hand lay one of the most advanced pieces of technology that was nearly 300 years more evolved than anything he would ever see – the iPod.

It was a strange device no less – a compressed rectangle about the size of his hand that was all black with a red dial in the middle. The lieutenant now took out the item again to analyze it carefully the red dial in the middle contained a small black button and the dial itself had symbols along three sides of it and on the forth side at the top held a word that clearly read **MENU**. On the upper part of the black rectangle was a window that was blank. On the back of the device, it was all metallic silver that read a number of things along with symbols and what looked like signatures as well. On the top and bottom side of the rectangle were openings that looked made fit for something to connect with. One of the upper openings was already connected – it was attached to a white thin flexible cord that ran half way whole and the other half separate to end into two little knobs with tiny small openings. One knob read **R** and the other **L**.

His curiosity got the better of him and he pressed on the dial where it said 'Menu'. Voila! The lifeless screen was no longer blank but now read legibly with black print. On the top of the screen there was the phrase **Now Playing** in between two symbols he did not know – the one on the left was two equal lines and the one on the right was a small rectangle that was mostly filled in black. The top ended with a line underneath it and below was written in the following order:

**Anarchy in the U.K.  
The Sex Pistols  
Never Mind the Bollocks Here's the Sex **

Underneath those words was a tube like shape that was half filled and some type of timing at each end of the tube. The only printing that he could so far come to understand were the words while the symbols and the other shapes, held no significance for him. But even though he could _read_ it, the actual meaning of the context was lost to him.

_Anarchy in the U.K…the _Sex _Pistols…?_ His thoughts were in a tied confusion and he didn't even want to begin how the press of a raised bump could lead to show the following text, it simply whirred his mind.

"Gillette!" A familiar voice had called. To the lieutenant it was like a _deja vu_ from the morning.

He turned around and faced his captain with the strange device in hand. "Yes, sir?"

"Lieutenant, have you found anything that might lead us along any lines?" Norrington looked at the device that Gillette was holding.

"I'm…not sure, Sir…it's unlike anything I have ever seen," started Gillette as he leaned towards him to show him the visual print on the contraption. Norrington took the device and observed the symbols and words on the window just as his lieutenant had done before.

"I see…very peculiar indeed," he said looking precisely at the phrases 'The _Sex_ Pistols', 'Here's the _Sex_'. However, as he looked at the symbols that the accessory withheld, he noticed a certain resemblance, more precisely a similarity between the symbol on upper left side of the window and the symbol on the bottom of the red dial that was next to another symbol – two bold small black vertical lines. He felt a sudden urge to press at the symbol to see what occurred. Perhaps the symbol on the window was of some sort of instruction…

Curiosity got the better of him. He placed his thumb on top of the symbol and…

…nothing happened or at least nothing of great significance. He didn't register any change until he realized that the tube near the bottom of the window began to fill in and that the numbers on the bottom of it began to change, one increasing and the other decreasing. It was a little moment later after that he heard it, sound - a strange sound that wasn't coming from the men. "Gillette, do you…hear something unusual…?"

"Uh…sir, I think it's coming from these," he said while holding the white knobs at him. The room, that happened to be Norrington's office, became suddenly silent hinting that the interest of the moment was this _other_ object. The sound became distinctly more audible now with the silence.

The captain took the knobs from the lieutenant with his thumb and index finger. Cautiously he brought the strange knobs to his ear. After a few seconds of listening with a stunned look, he regained his composure and passed the knobs back to Gillette.

With a questioning glance, Norrington made gesture for him to see for himself or rather to _hear_ for himself. The reaction for Gillette was likewise to his superior. Precautious, he whispered in his captain's ear, "James, there is a man singing _inside_ of the device…"

Whispering back but in a more lecturing tone he said, "Don't be ridiculous Charles! There can't be a man _inside_ of it!"

"But what about the strange music then? How did it get _inside_?" asked Gillette in the same hushing whisper, "Do you think it's…possibly…_enchanted_?"

Norrington glared at him. "Superstitions, _Charles_, are very unbecoming of a military man."

"Yes, sir," said Gillette in sort of shame that something so senseless could have crossed his mind. "I do not know what came over me."

"We shall have to wait till the girl wakes-" had started the commodore-to-be when he was interrupted by one of the doctor's assistants that had rushed in to say that the young woman with her awkward belongings was awake. "Just our luck, Gillette!" he said before turning to the medical assistant to tell him that they would be there in few minutes.

"Captain!" called one of the men that had been looking through the bags. "I think we found something that can tell us where she's from!"

"What is it?" said the captain making his way to the man who now held a wallet before him along with some sort of card.

"I believe it's some sort of identification, sir."

Compelled to see the evidence for himself, he took the card and saw that indeed it was identification. On the top it read so: **NYHS of Science and Technology**. Underneath were a name, a logo, and a surprisingly accurate _picture_ of the girl they had rescued. On the back there was information that included, alas! It was an address that was unfortunately cut-off in the print. There were also some numbers that indicated to be a _phone _number…

"Excellent work, men!" Congratulated the soon to be commodore. "Now, put back everything as it was before, for we will have to return the young woman's possessions."

"Captain, sir," began Gillette, "and what of _that_ item?" He was pointing to the black box-like device.

"I have a _few_ questions about this…_thing_. And I will want to ask them to our lady survivor." He said while the music coming from the device hadn't stopped.

She was barely aware that she was awake; she hadn't opened her eyes yet and was a little afraid to do so. She remembered hearing voices, being picked up and then fainting again. But after that…after she had fell into black slumber it was like she was lost. It wasn't pure black slumber…it was like being in some strange mist with fog and she was standing alone in it. Alone until a figure came closer to her, close enough to make out a black cloaked figure that was tall. Besides that she didn't make out anything…

_He said, "What do you want?" with a deep but smooth voice._

_Then she spoke but it wasn't her speaking, it was her dream-like self-saying those words: "I don't know." But she wouldn't have said that. She would have said "I want to go home" except that now as she looked at the figure she realized her dream self was more honest in saying what she had said._

_The cloaked shape stood still. "Not to know is better than speaking foolishly…after all you've just arrived…" He knew what she superficially wanted, even though her other self had responded otherwise._

_She suddenly felt some sort of chill and then the cloak figure had disappeared when she heard an ear shattering screech from behind her._

It was then that she woke up in a jolt. But even so her eyelids weren't open. Realizing that her body felt much more at ease than previously, she sat up slowly and attempting to open her eyes. She felt a stretching sting on her right forehead where the pain was a lot worse before. The light began to seep through her slight opening of her lids. She closed them down again, rubbed her eyes with her hands and then finally opened them. Still squinting a bit she tried to take in the sight before her.

She was on a bed with thin brown cotton sheets while she wore an overly large white blouse. The room was indeed something she didn't come to understand, the walls were made of stone, the windows were wooden frames, and outside those windows was the view of the ocean and a couple of palm trees.

…_Something is not right here…_she thought to herself as she kept staring at what was beyond the window. After staring what was a couple of seconds, but felt much longer, she heard a voice say "Miss?" Turning around she came to visual contact with a boy with blond hair tied in a ponytail and wearing something that reminded her of Steve Urkel.

"Yes?" she asked looking at him trying not to think of the comedy show protagonist.

"I am here to inform you that the Captain and his men will soon be here to interrogate you, is that alright Miss?"

She stared at him slightly dazed and the boy's appearance didn't seem half as funny as it should have under normal circumstances. "Wait, I don't understand. Where am I?"

The boy's brown eyes widened to saucers as he explained what happened. "Miss, you were found on the rocks outside the fort...you had a rather large wound on the side of your forehead." She immediately touched the right side of her head. "Fortunately, your injury was small and close to your hairline so it is barely visible unless you touch it."

Footsteps could now be heard from outside the room. "The Captain is here, Miss," said the boy who now moved away from the bed and went off to another room.

She sat still as she saw men walking from what seemed to be the hallway entry. They all had perfect styled white wigs and wore 18th Century uniforms.

'…_Great I must have hit my head harder than I thought; now I'm delusional…' _she thought while looking at the men in front of her like _she_ was the weird one. The all wore the same exact uniform with the exception of one man whose uniform looked a bit more sophisticated; obviously the captain.

He bowed and said, "Captain James Norrington at your service. I hope you are feeling much better."

"I am…I mean, thank you but I would feel a lot better if I knew where I was."

"You are in a clinic of a military fort in Port Royal," spoke the Captain eloquently looking at her strangely.

"Excuse me…I don't think I heard that correctly," Uriquizá asked hardly believing her ears…or her eyes for that matter, "did you say _military fort_?"

"That is right, Miss, you are in Fort Charles in _Port Royal_."

She began to feel nervous, in fact she was sure she was about to have a panic attack. "I don't understand…I'm not…I should…Why am I _here_?"

"You were found," replied the Captain slowly looking at her with something close to sympathy. "You were found unconscious on the rocks right outside the fort…you've been unconscious for the past three hours. We could hardly have left a woman alone in such a state."

'_This makes no sense…'_ Uriquizá felt a strange lump in her throat begin to rise, "How did I get here?"

"Actually Miss, we were hoping you would be able to tell _us_ how you came to be," started the Captain searching for words, "…in such a state."

She shook her head and began to murmur, "I don't know, I don't know."

"Perhaps if you told us where you're from we could help you," said Captain Norrington, "…I'm sorry I don't believe you gave us your name."

"My name is Iris Uriquizá and I live in Queens, New York."

"New York?" asked the Captain as the rest of his men whispered behind him," That's quite far from here…"

"I can see that," said Iris as she pointed at the palm trees outside the window.

James Norrington looked from the window to the girl bowing his head while nodding, "Miss, were you by any chance…ship-wrecked?"

"Ship-wrec—," she started looking at the Captain as if her were insane, "No, no. You don't understand. I _can't_ be where you say we supposedly are. I woke up this morning in Queens, New York. I got up, left my house, and walked to the train station to get to school when suddenly I fell and blacked out. And now _you're_ telling me I'm here in god knows where, in a military fort no less, and asking me if I was _ship-wrecked_?"

Iris began to laugh in that sardonic frustrated way people laugh when they don't know what to do. "This is just rich. I must be losing my mind," she said as she shook her head in annoyance.

"Calm down Miss Uri-," stammered the Captain on her last name, "_Miss Iris_, you must calm down in order for us to help you. Otherwise, you will only make it more difficult for the rest of us."

"Calm down? You want me to _calm down_? Just look at what you're wearing for Christ sakes! Am I supposed to feel comfortable here? I mean look at _this_, " Iris said extending her arms to refer to the room she was in, "It's like I'm stuck in a medieval play or something and you want me to calm down?"

"There is no need to be insulting," Norrington retorted with narrow eyes that didn't quite understand what she was talking about but felt her tone of offense anyhow.

"_What_ is going on?" She asked controlling both her fear and her anger, "Look, if you're not capable of giving me any _reasonable_ answers then I might as well go and see if there _is_ someone who's willing to help me."

"Miss Iris! You cannot leave, not in your fragile condition," said Norrington stopping the girl from getting up and leaving the bed. "You must rest. I am sure that when you are better rested this will all make more sense. Please, rest now."

Captain James Norrington left along with his men leaving the very troubled Iris alone in the bed. She bit her lip in apprehension and felt something wet on her cheeks – tears. Her head hurt and she was confused, maybe the strange man was right, maybe she needed to sleep. Lying back down on the bed she closed her eyes and wandered back into sleep.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Charles."

"Perhaps," Started Lieutenant Gillette, "she hit her head harder than we thought."

"I wonder that too…she did seem a little off balance or maybe she's just…unstable to begin with," said Norrington contemplatively, "We don't even know who she is except that she _might_ be from New York."

"Well her accent was rather…strange," pointed out the Lieutenant.

"Yes, that alone excludes her possibility of being part of the _ton_, she certainly couldn't be a blue-blood…could she?" asked Norrington more too himself than to Gillette.

"I don't think so James."

He sighed rubbing his forehead slightly. So many things were happening at once. His promotion was only hours away along with the marriage proposal he was going to make to the Governor's daughter. He had pirates to worry about; the last thing on his mind should be this silly girl with her strange trinkets. It was much easier to let her heal and then let her go.

"Gillette?"

"Yes, Captain."

"I want you to take care of this issue for me," said Norrington leaving the problem on the Lieutenant's shoulders, "I think it's better if you handled this, I'm weary as it is with all the other things going on…and that are about to take place. If the girl wishes to leave after she's recovered let her."

"But Captain, what about her trinkets? Should we give them back to her?"

"They _are_ hers, Charles, and she has committed no felony. You must give them back."

"But sir, shouldn't we…question her about them?" Gillette asked anxiously.

Norrington smiled at the Lieutenant, "I leave that to you Gillette. I must be getting back to my other work, which I think we both agree is much more urgent."

Understanding the reference to the piracy that was going on more than lately – specifically with the rum runners they had caught about a month ago trading with pirates. "Yes, of course sir."

With that, the Captain bid his friend and fellow officer goodbye thinking of the prospects that were to come.

The Lieutenant however had other things in mind as he looked at the bags that belonged to their unexpected guest.

_Somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, 1720_

He lay at length in the small boat. The sun was on its zenith and the wind was blowing his way. He was well aware of what he had done - he had taken someone else's boat without permission but he was sure they wouldn't mind.

"Aye," he spoke out loud while sipping his rum, "Anamaria won't be too mad…"

After all, who couldn't forgive him? He was irresistible and devilishly charming!

A smug grin decorated his tan features. Everything was going his way so far from this afternoon that is. The wind was blowing in his convenience but even then he knew he wouldn't make to Port Royal until early dawn at best. Yes, he would have to wait…not like he had much of choice either.

…_You would've been there this evenin' at most if ye were sailin' _Her…

"But I wouldn't be sailin' this way if I still had 'er…" he spoke to himself softly.

Ever since he had lost _Her_, the ships he had were temporary – like his ability to maintain any other ship was unstable.

'…_a Curse…'_

Yes, a jinx of his own. Why, only his last ship had sunken at the shores of Hispañola and that's why he had taken this boat.

The infamous Captain Jack Sparrow had to wait to get a new ship in Port Royal. It would be amusement to see the redcoats work once in a while. But besides that, what could possibly happen? After all, he was _Captain Jack Sparrow…_

**A/N: Changes, changes, changes. R & R. **


	5. The Slam

**Chapter 5: The Slam**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

**Human Nature**

by Quilapayuna

**The Slam**

Iris Uriquizá had not realized how tired she was until she had laid down and shut her eyes. The minute she closed them she immediately fell asleep. And this was almost always very normal for patients recovering from illness or injury. However, to fall back into a dream immediately was rather strange. Even for someone like her who had always had a rather unstable sleeping schedule and unstable sleeping arrangements it was something that should have been considered a little less than normal.

But this dream that she had suddenly fallen into seemed familiar… similar to her previous dream except the scenario had changed this time…

_She sat in a seat. It was hard and cold against her legs that were completely bare. In fact, now that she looked at herself, she was completely in the nude and tied to the chair. She was completely attached to it with the exception of her arms that were free but of little use since there was no way to undo the chains holding her down. There was also the fact that she didn't feel at all disturbed by it considering that by all rights she should have been in hysterics._

"_Do you play chess?"_

_Without prior notice the rest of the picture seemed to appear – a table rather dirty, made of a dark, worn out wood. There was a chess set on the table distinctly made of marble with a few stains on it making it look older than it should._

"_No, I don't know how to play," answered her dream-self to the figure across of her. It was a man; dressed in a white suit though his facial features were indistinguishable to her she knew that he was either very handsome or very frightening…or both. _

"_Pity," said the figure moving a piece even though she was not playing._

"_Who are you?"_

_The man smiled at her, "I am many things and I have many names."_

_She did not react to this. "Why am I here?"_

_The man made another move, "Checkmate."_

"_Why am I here?" her dream counterpart asked again._

"_You are here because you chose to…or rather someone chose for you."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_Your friend, she initiated a rather strange ritual I must admit. Surely you realize why you are here _now_?"_

_Her dream-self seemed unmoved by this piece of news. "You are the Devil."_

_The man smiled again, "I prefer Lucifer if you please. Old habits die hard I'm afraid."_

"_What is going to happen to me now?"_

"_Very good question my dear. But all in due time of course. This will not be our last meeting I assure you," he said as she felt his eyes upon her. "I will certainly not deny myself the pleasure of such a lovely _view_."_

"_I don't understand," she said once again. Or rather her dream-self said. It was rather strange being the one to answer but not being able to answer exactly what she wanted._

"_I know you don't. And that is quite alright," responded Lucifer with his deep baritone voice, "Because you, my dear, do not know what you want and you have only arrived."_

"_Arrived where?" asked her dream-self quickly._

_The figure smirked as he moved a final piece on the board. "To the Golden Age of Paradoxes. Say hello to King George for me, won't you?"_

…and then of course she woke up. Remembering every detail of the encounter made her body shutter and she looked down at herself to make sure she was fully clothed. The dream in reality had been short in substance but it must have been quite long time-wise, considering that it was already dark from what she could see outside the window.

"Miss?"

The voice snapped Iris from her sleepy daze. "Yes?"

"Are you feeling better?" asked a man she recognized to have been next to the Captain during their interrogation.

"Yeah, I feel a lot better, thanks for asking."

"Not at all, Miss. It would hardly credit the King's navy if we didn—"

'_Had he just said king?'_

The Lieutenant looked at her a little confused, "Is something wrong mi—"

"You said the _King's navy_."

"Yes, the British navy _is_ the King's navy, after all," the Lieutenant said now looking at Iris more suspiciously.

"What are you talking about? There hasn't been a king in years—"

…_Say hello to King George for me…_

She thought about this for a second and she thought about her dream. It was vivid and obviously difficult to just throw aside as a meaningless jumble. _He_ had said she had just arrived…to where she wasn't sure but He had mentioned…

"King George…" Iris whispered softly to herself but loud enough that the Lieutenant heard.

"Yes. That _would_ be the right king," said the officer sarcastically.

She looked at him with wide eyes. It was obvious that she wasn't anywhere near home but could it be possible that…

"Can I ask…what _year_ is it again?" The question had come out of Iris's mouth before she had the opportunity to think about how stupid that question sounded.

Now the Lieutenant was looking at her as if she were _really_ insane. "As far as I am concerned, it's 1720, Miss."

She nodded her head agreeing in attempt to cover-up her slip, "Oh, yes, I mean I forgot. I did kind of hit my head a little hard, sorry. I know how…stupid that must have just sounded, sorry."

The man moved closer to her with narrow eyes now as if he knew something she didn't know. "Your name Miss Uriqueeza—"

"Uriquizá," Iris corrected.

"—is quite interesting. Are you _Spanish_?" asked the Lieutenant ignoring her correction.

"I'm of Spanish _descent_, if that's what you're asking," she answered nervously, trying to be careful with what she said considering she didn't know what was going on at this point.

The Lieutenant was now very close to her leaning towards her in what anyone, in any time period, would have labeled as intrusion of personal space. "And where precisely do your loyalties lie, _Miss_?"

"I'm not sure what you're saying here…" began Iris, starting to feel very afraid about this strange questioning and the Lieutenant's closeness.

"We are at _war_, Miss _Uriqueeza_," the man said mispronouncing her name once again, "with _Spain_."

"Oh," Iris replied flustered, "well, I don't really follow politics." And this was in reality somewhat true since she had no idea what had happened in the 1720s thus making her politically inept at the moment.

"You are a _spy_."

The lieutenant had meant it as an accusation and if it had been 2008, Iris would have certainly been amused to the point of belly-laughter. However, the current circumstances were far from humorous and the tone of this man before her made her nervous. And when she became nervous her New York City defenses went up like reflexes.

"Whoa, hold it there buddy. I am NOT a spy. I don't even know _what_ the hell you're talking about."

Without any precaution he grabbed her wrists harshly and pulled her rather brusquely to him, "Do not lie to me you little—"

Now he was _really_ scaring her. Iris reacted almost immediately kicking him in the chest trying to free herself from his manhandling.

"Get your fucking hands off me, asshole," She cursed between clenched teeth as she wrestled with him.

"Of course you're a spy," started the Lieutenant as he held the girl in place and avoided her hits, "What better way to get to the enemy than through a _woman_. A poor, helpless, injured, _pitiful woman_."

"You're out of your fucking mind, mother fucker," The New Yorker struggled against him but he wasn't letting go. It almost seemed useless to keep kicking. "Now, let…go…of…me!"

Oblivious to her 'sailor language' and her definite resistance, he continued on his discourse.

"But I must say it was a rather ingenious plan, leaving you here in front of a military fort – an excellent way to infiltrate. I confess, you must be quite dedicated to your King if you were willing to be purposely injured in such a manner." He smiled cruelly at her, "It was your _contraptions_ that gave you away, little spy. Or are they secret weapons to use against the British Empire? We all know how hungry you filthy Spaniards are to get your hands on our colonies."

At this point the lieutenant's mind began to wander. The girl was pressed so tightly against him that he could feel her young body even more as she struggled. A dangerous gleam began to shine in his eyes as he pressed her even tighter to him, "I can however arrange a most _pleasurable_ alternative instead of your most certain doom," the Lieutenant suggested.

Iris shrieked loudly trying to see if someone would come to her aid while she dug her nails into his hands.

Grabbing her hands in a more painful grip he pinned her on the bed and whispered. "I can save you from your deadly fate. You wouldn't have to _hang_ from the gallows as long as you warmed my bed at night. Wouldn't you be a treat – a delicious Spanish mistress? That hot Latin blood must make you a delectable little slut between the sheets. How glorious it will be to spend myself inside the enemy," He said vulgarly into her ear making her shudder with repulsion.

Seeing the opportunity in his heated state, Iris kneed him in the groin and pushed him off of her. She grabbed the sword from his belt as he cried in pain and bent himself in a fetal position. Trying to overcome his agony he attempted to stand up but she had already pointed the cutlass in his face, incorrectly gripping the handle with both hands.

The brunette was shaking madly inside from both fury and fear, "Come even an inch closer to me and I swear I'll cut your fucking balls off and have them for breakfast."

His eyes went from looking at her to the doorway where the Captain was rushing in.

"Gillette, I was informed that there were screams coming from he—" Captain James Norrington just stared at the scene before him for a fraction of a second before drawing out his sword on the spot. "Lower your weapon, Miss Iris."

Ignoring his order Iris held her sword pointed to the Lieutenant while answering the Captain, "This man tried to rape me so until he's arrested I ain't lowering shit!"

"She's lying, sir!" immediately protested Gillette. "She attacked me once I unmasked her!"

"Unmasked her?" questioned the Captain looking at the both of them confused.

"She's a spy! A spy for the Spanish!"

"That's a lie! I don't even know what he's talking about for God fucking sakes!" Iris shrieked in anguish of having her word being placed aside for that of a _military man._

"Lower the sword this _instant_, Miss Iris." Hesitant, her first impulse was to refuse but in a moment of clarity she realized she wasn't going to get anything out of it and that the sword was of little use if she didn't even know how to use it properly. She eventually opted to drop it.

The Captain swiftly turned his attention to his fellow officer, "Explain yourself, Gillette."

Gillette quickly explained that Iris had to be a spy seeing how her possessions were all ambiguous in nature and that the texts she carried around were full of blasphemy. "The evidence is overwhelming James! Surely you must see how this girl must be a spy – her last name clearly indicates her origin. And her identification! Why else would she need to carry it with her?"

Norrington looked at his friend and officer – Gillette had never lied about anything before, surely he would not make any false accusations…would he?

Devastated by seeing the Captain becoming persuaded Iris scream, "He's lying! He's nothing but a mother fucking liar who's pissed because he couldn't get into my pants! He tried to rape me for Christ sakes! You have to believe _me_!"

Knitting his brows together the soon-to-be Commodore sighed and made the quick decision of trusting the man he thought to knew.

"I am sorry Miss, but I cannot give your protests any validity considering that the evidence is clearly against you _and_ you've threatened a military official. These are all felonies against you, Miss. I am afraid I must place you under arrest."

Calling to his men, the girl was handcuffed as she tried to thrash about against the soldiers who were arresting her. "This is ridiculous! You- you can't arrest me, I'm seventeen, I'm fucking underage! And I am NOT A SPY!"

"The evidence clearly shows the contrary," spat Lieutenant Gillette. He had been so close to having her…but she chose her own doom. Now she would hang.

"Shut the fuck up _rapist_," Iris hissed back at him as she fought against being taken away. "This is illegal! It's innocent until proven guilty!"

Gillette simply chuckled. "Says _who_?" With a final heated glanced, he smirked cruelly and said, "I'll see you at the gallows, _Miss_."

And they took her away.

Now, technically Charles Gillette was _not_ lying because he did in fact believe that she was a spy. But of course, he had tried to take more than a little advantage of the situation.

But the proof _was_ there. He had been suspicious from the start hearing her speak nonsense about being from New York. Then there was also the fact that her last name _was_ Spanish. It was rare if not very unlikely for someone of Spanish descent to be living in English colonies these days with the war going on and the Spanish Succession just a few years before.

Could he be blamed if he wanted to turn things to his convenience? If Norrington was going to get promoted and married, why couldn't he have his own fun? Who could blame him for wanting the young thing? The thought alone, knowing that this exotic little Spanish nymph was the enemy and that _he_ a lowly Lieutenant could have had her made his blood boil.

"Gillette!"

The voice of his Captain startled him for the second time that day. "Yes, sir?"

"Gillette," said the Captain looking at his friend, trying to read the truth in him." Are you _sure_ that the girl is a spy?"

"She's Spanish James. Her name gives her away. That alone should be raising suspicion in all of us."

"…She doesn't look Spanish though…" Now this was also true. She was rather pale – not fashionably pale like the ladies of the _ton_ deliberately sought to achieve – but she wasn't that slight tan that was found in nearly every Spaniard that wasn't of nobility. In addition to that, there was her bone structure that wasn't quite as angular as it should have been for a Spaniard…no she could have easily passed off as English…even Scandinavian. But the truth was that Gillette had not even really looked at her closely enough to question her origin. Why would he when the fact alone that she _might_ be Spanish made him warm?

"Her identification and her own words clearly prove it," answered Gillette to his Captain's doubts. "We wouldn't want a threat to Port Royal or even to the Empire on the loose, would we?"

"No, no. You are right Gillette, all the proof points to her," agreed the superior officer. "I knew I was not mistaken in putting you in charge Gillette."

"I am honored, sir," bowed the lieutenant with all the hypocrisy he could muster.

"You are dismissed of your duty, Gillette, goodnight."

"Goodnight sir."

"Goodnight Gillette."

With that, the two-faced officer left his post looking forward to go home…and lock himself in his bedchambers.

They had been _anything_ but gentle in dragging Iris down the stair and to the prison cells. Before she knew it, she had been pushed into one leaving her behind bars. Falling on her behind rather brusquely, she yelped in pain. '_That's going to bruise…'_

Getting up the distressed brunette started banging on the bars and screaming in rage. They couldn't just lock her up. She hadn't even been put to trial!

What seemed to be out of nowhere, a large bucket of water appeared and immediately after that she felt like she was being stabbed with a thousand needles and the mangy voices were talking to her in her head again. One of the prison guards had thrown the icy cold water at her and was telling her to keep her mouth shut.

Shivering from both her unnatural reaction and the fact that she was now cold and wet, she started crying tears of impotence.

Her good humored side said "So _this_ is the Slam," but her petrified side didn't say anything, it only sobbed until letting her fall unconscious from the exhaustion and pain.

**Author's Note:** Yes, I know, I know I haven't updated in a _long_ while but I can't help it. Anyway more changes to this as well.


	6. Norrington's Day

**Chapter 6: Norrington's Day**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Author's Note:**_ sigh I know it's been a while but please bare with me…sorry to all those faithful readers. If you are one of those who used to follow this fic, I suggest you go back and re-read it over again because I've changed it around a bit. Don't worry it isn't any drastic change anyway. And yes, I took away the other chapters I had posted because I wasn't happy with how I was going about this whole story. I know this must be aggravating to have to re-read everything but this fanfic has been by personal life goal since back in 2004 and the fat that four years have passed and I haven't been able to finish makes me want me too finally reach an end to this but not until _I_ personally feel satisfied with it. And of course, I want only to entertain my readers as much as I can possibly offer.

Now that you've heard my rambling, go ahead and enjoy the story!

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**Norrington's Day**

Captain James Norrington was not a bad man. In fact, he was perhaps one of the most decent and respectful men that were out there. Of course, he himself did not precisely admit to this out of modesty though more than once had thought about all the things _other_ officers had don – but not him. He had always played clean and had always been loyal to the British Crown.

And today was his day. He had a million other things on his mind – from pirates to that girl they would be executing the next morning – but today was _his_ day and it was alright to be selfish if only for once. Couldn't he too take a day for himself, for his years of hard work? True, that issue with the spy had him a little uneasy considering that something didn't feel right about the situation. She was just so young…

_"But that's precisely what they want you to feel, James. They want you to feel pity for her. She was perfect for the job,"_ had said Gillette that night when he commented it to him later. His friend was probably right and probably more clear-headed than he who was feeling overwhelmed with his promotion and the probable engagement.

The sun rose in the distance and it warmed the island in an instance. Ten years ago on the crossing from England James Norrington had felt that sun on his face and he had vowed to himself that if it was the last thing he'd do, he'd make Port Royal a respectable colony – even if he had to hang every last breathing pirate that sailed the Caribbean Sea.

Today was his day.

And he fully intended to live up to his vow. It would be Commodore Norrington – a respectable man, a gentleman, a military man – and it would be perfect.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to have woken up in bed, gone to school, and pissed off Mr. Crichton. And that would have been fine because that was her routine and she didn't need an adventure when routine was what she had always known since birth.

_So why now?_

Iris Uriquizá did not know and was too preoccupied with the pain, in her back, her head and in her rear end, to fully analyze why this had all happened. She had sobbed herself to sleep that night and she was almost certain that she'd have another strange dream with another representation of Satan but she hadn't. She had woken up about three times through the night from both the cold and the painful experience of having to sleep on the stone floor. There was also the little rat skittering sounds that could be heard throughout the prison cells. The prison guards' snoring didn't help much either.

It wasn't until early morning that real exhaustion took her over and she fell asleep like a log. She had adjusted into an upright fetal position making sure that her back didn't touch any of the bars that surrounded her because there were other prisoners there too. The stench was worse than that hobo on the train – it was putrid. When she would wake up suddenly through the night, she'd grab a whiff of it and nearly vomit. But the main reason she sat herself in the middle of the cell with her knees up to her chin was out of self-preservation.

She had watched enough prison movies to realize that you could leave yourself open to an opportunity of being harmed by just leaning against the bars could mean any sort of assault. So placing herself in the center of the cell she fell asleep with her chin on her knees. Her pants were dirty from the floor, her hair was also greasy and dirty from having gone two days without washing, and her shirt wasn't all that much better since it looked like an old T-shirt you may have used to dust with instead.

The men on the right-side of her cell were stretching their hands through the cells towards her, catcalling and beckoning followed their movements but she stood still.

"You know that your execution is scheduled for tomorrow first thing in the morning, right?" Provoked a voice she recognized as belonging to the Lieutenant that had attempted to feel her up, "I believe this is the first execution Port Royal has which _isn't_ related to piracy. I should think that all of Port Royal will come to see how our very first _Spanish_ spy hangs from the gallows – an honor to be sure."

Iris looked up from her knees through the greasy curtain of her hair. Gillette stood with a look of self-satisfaction dancing across his face. He walked to the bars closely and bent down to whisper, "This could have ended differently my little spy had you been more…_compliant_, but you sealed your own fate."

With as much force as she could muster she slammed herself against the bars and spit in his face. "Go look for some other little kids to fuck," she hissed.

Wiping his face of her saliva with his sleeve he lashed out at her angrily, "I will be in the first row to watch you hang, you stupid whore!"

He walked away and made his way up the stairs as she screamed out at him, "_Fucking Pedophile!"_

"Shut your mouth there you!" yelled out one of the prison guards who was currently playing cards with another guard.

The men who had been whistling towards her and making vulgar quips had now quieted down to a soft murmuring amongst themselves as they whispered the new information that they had just been witnesses of.

She put her arms around herself tightly and without much thought she dug her nails into her arms scratching down their length as she thought about her assault of the Lieutenant, how her word was completely disregarded and how she had suddenly lost total control of her life within less than 72 hours. Iris felt a warm wetness run down her cheek and she didn't bother wiping it as it ran down her nose.

She sniffled slightly.

It was beyond her comprehension how _this_ was happening to her. It was like an awful nightmare which just refused to end. But what pained her more was that she had experienced the worst event of her life of nearly being raped.

Iris, like any woman in their right mind, did not look fondly on rape or being groped. How many times had this been an issue she had fought over with many of her friends and classmates – especially those who justified rape in certain cases. Having always been a feminist since very young, she positively loathed rape and was completely repulsed when others defend it as sometimes _legitimate_.

Trying to keep her mind away from the fact that she was now currently under arrest to be executed, her mind wandered back to when she had once presented an issue for debate. It had in fact shocked her tremendously in the end.

There had been a girl from one of the northeastern states that she could now not remember, but the issue was that she had posted herself on craigslist online as an escort because she needed to pay for college.

A 19 year old boy answered her advertisement. They had set up the pricing and where they would meet. The place was somewhere discreet and when they finally met up, the boy asked whether his buddies could have a go at her as well and she said that they would have to discuss pricing. Not happy with this arrangement the boy, along with his friends who had shown up, raped the girl mercilessly. A few months later the girl goes to trial accusing them of rape. To Iris's shock, the judge pronounces them guilty of not having paid a transaction but not rape – because supposedly, _prostitutes could not be raped_.

Now Iris was more than aware that justice in 2008 was not completely _just_. Like in every part of the world, there was corruption, twisted sense of morals, and disregard of civil rights but now that she was stuck in this position of being sentenced to death for supposedly being something she wasn't, the young brunette wondered if this was how completely powerless that girl must have felt.

Iris felt the injustice and she felt completely helpless because no one seemed to be on her side – and how could they be? If things were still sketchy in 2008 what could she expect from 1720? Let alone the colonies which technically ran their own governments with little regard for what the King had to say – not like he would have much to say anyway.

The girl licked her chapped lips that were bleeding from the dry cracks.

She was seventeen which in her time was underage and the thought of having a much older man feel her up automatically listed him as what she considered pedophile. Now technically, this wasn't entirely true since she was already considered a young woman to anyone who would see her on the street unknowing of her age. Nevertheless, in her mind, she had a difficult time seeing herself as anything other than a kid still and even more difficulty seeing how anyone could possibly see her as anything but.

Wiping her runny nose with her sleeve Iris pushed her dirty hair back in disgust.

She wasn't a prude – that was for sure but since she had never been romantically involved with anyone throughout high school she was still haunted by Gillette's crude words to her as he had shamelessly tried to have his way with her.

It all seemed so surreal at this point. The whisperings of the men to her right had ceased to silence. "'s 't true?" one of the boney men asked almost conspiratorially, "Are you really a spy for 'em guineas?"

Not even bothering to look at him she didn't answer but simply looked down at the dirty stone floor. The stench seemed to have subsided now that she realized that she did not smell any better.

Her eyes and her head were put into a drowsy stupor until she fell asleep only to later wake up to a most unusual sight.

_He poured her a cup of tea. The cup was stained already with maroon blotches that matched the table, the wall, the floor…_

_"I did say we would meet again. Didn't I?"_

_Her dream counter-part was staring at the figure whose voice was projecting. She seemed completely oblivious that she was once again nude with exception of thin belts that covered precisely the necessary – leaving nothing to the imagination._

_"Yes, except now I'm going to die," said her dream self quite calmly._

_"Well these things _do_ happen," said the figure in a burgundy tuxedo. All of a sudden she became aware of a map on the table with little figures; he moved one of the pieces. "But I did say you had just arrived. Surely you didn't think you'd come here just to get out of it that easy?"_

_Her dream self said nothing even though on the inside she was screaming to have her questions answered._

_"You will not hang my dearest. As much as I would enjoy your _eternal_ presence, you are of no use to me dead," He moved another figure on the map – it was a world map now that she looked closely. "How's your head?"_

_"It hurts," answered her dream counter-part._

_"Yes, these things _always_ hurt. But don't worry darling, I promise the pain will soon go away. You just have to figure out what you want and then we can all go on perfectly _normal_."_

_Her dream counter-part looked at the burgundy dressed man who picked his cup of tea and drank elegantly. He put the cup down, completely stained in a fresh maroon. _

_He smirked wickedly leaving her with the last words she would hear from him in a long time to come, "Somehow our _devils_ are never quite what we expect when we meet them face to face."_

After hearing those words she woke up in the most startling manner – with a warm body that had been dropped onto her smelling of water sewer and…_rum._

This chapter was much revised too, in fact the entire damn story has been much revised. I know, I haven't updated in a millennium and I don't deserve any of my faithful readers but I do vow to keep this story to date once in for all – that has been my New Year's Resolution: to finish what I've started or rather to set deadlines or else I'll always have this story in limbo.

Like I mentioned previous, if you used to be a former reader – I suggest you re-read it from the beginning again. I've altered some things: a few details that are going to be important for future reference. Thanks! R&R.

Once again, my references come from your best friend and _my_ best friend: Wikipedia.


	7. Beyond Good and Evil

**Chapter 7: Beyond Good and Evil**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Authors Note:**_ Im so happy Im back on track with this story! Hope people continue to enjoy it.

Now there is a slight confusion I wanted to clarify for those who are worrisome on this: Atheism. Most people understand what Atheism is and if you don't know the exact definition you have the basic idea of what it is. Atheism is the disbelief of a deity or deities (god or gods). It is not anti-God. There is a difference. You see to say anti-God is pretty much parallel to saying _Anti-Christ_ which is usually labeled as Satanism very different from Atheism. Now, in Chapter One when Frankie refers to Iris as atheist, she has the basic idea of what atheism is. Is Iris Atheist? She says she doesn't believe in religions which in most cases would require the non-believing of a god or gods. Nevertheless, there are religions and spiritual beliefs, like Buddhism, where a god is not praised but rather an idea or a philosophy is being worshipped. Not believing in religion itself is Antitheism. But I'm not getting technical here though because you can be atheist and be antitheist and also not be antitheist so let's make our lives easier and break it down to just atheism. _(Reference: Wikipedia)_ But more importantly, the significance of making Iris atheist isn't to be technical but rather to show the confusion she feels. What happens to her is due to a belief that she opposes to acknowledge. She begins to doubt what she knows and more importantly herself.

Well now that that's out of the way, go ahead and enjoy the story. Remember, I always love your reviews. Any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**Beyond Good and Evil**

_1720, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil_

He was a man tall with olive skin. His hair was a dirty smoke brown and his face carried a nose that seemed to have been a victim of many fights.

An hour ago he had reached port and already he felt himself become desperate with anxiety. The climate was too hot and too humid for his liking but most of all, it was too _crowded_. There were people everywhere from civilians to officers to those of a more questionable status. Where he was from, the population was drastically smaller.

In political terms it was perfect. Rio de Janeiro was rather liberal in who came and went considering that the Portuguese held a rather flexible leash on its colonies they were too busy milking Spain's cow, so to speak. Thus, it was the perfect spot for temporary hiding. But besides its benefits in coming in and out of port, it was a place he wouldn't think twice about if he ever wanted to settle.

He looked at his surroundings with disdain. Many would have agreed Rio to be idyllic, but he didn't share that opinion. He hated the smell of the infernal heat and the damned clamminess that seemed to envelop the very air he breathed. And there was a stench that penetrated his skin and seeped through the sweat that soaked his clothing. Rio was no paradise to him.

Yet, if he knew who he was looking for, no doubt that the person would be slumming around this port thinking the exact opposite. It was only a matter of looking around, and he _had_ been for the past hour continuously.

His eyes moved predatorily like an animal hunting, searching

Laughter. He heard laughter at his back what seemed more like drunken chuckles than anything else. They came from a rather large group that walked towards a ship at the dock a Spanish galleon of fine wood. It wore a black flag.

A black flag with a white skeleton holding an hourglass in one hand and a dagger in the other. And a heart, a heart that bled three drops.

It seemed the motley group of laughter was in fact the crew. He saw the leader laughing the heartiest, bottle in hand, no doubt rum, and sitting down on the dock, legs sprawled out, belly protruding, and overall filthy. But most obviously drunk.

The man who had been waiting the hour made his way towards the group, smelling the rancidness of their sweat mixed with alcohol as he made his way.

Coming to stand in front of them he addressed the leader.

"_Digame_, Villanueva," the man said causing every head to turn towards him, "how is it that you manage to get dirtier and fatter every time I see you?"

Almost spontaneously, twenty guns were pointed at him ready to shoot.

"_Y quien puta sois vos, cabron?"_ spat one of the men who appeared to be the leaders first mate.

"Are these your bodyguards _o_ _tus putas_?" The other man asked with a mocking smirk, intentionally ignoring the first mates.

"Looks like this _maldito_, wants to have his brains blown out!" threatened the first-mate now pushing the barrel of his gun into the man's temple.

"_Deja lo,_ Fernando," the leader finally spoke. He set his beady eyes upon the younger man's face and asked "_Qu__é__ mierda estas haciendo aquí?"_

"I have to speak with you," the younger man said looking pointedly at the crew, "alone."

There was a sudden wave of disapproval among group. Some of them protested more loudly than others. "_Lo que tenga que decirle al Capit__á__n_, he can tell us too!"

"_Callense!_ I don't want to be hearing any complaints, scolded their leader, _Y t__ú_, lead the way."

The leader pudgy, filthy, and short followed the man down the dock until they reached the other man's ship. Leading him up the plank to his lesser boat he said brusquely, "After you."

The ship wasn't grand like the one the leader had but it obviously did its job, nevertheless the leader saw how withered it was. "You should take better care of your _barco_."

"_Esta porquería_?" the other man snorted, I wouldn't waste a single _peso_ on this. I'll get a new one soon enough.

The leader raised a bushy graying eyebrow at the man, "You hold no attachments to it?"

"Why would I?" He asked cynically, "It's just a boat. I can get another one.

"_Eres extraño_."

"No, I'm practical. You see unlike you sea _lords_," he said mockingly to the pirate leader, "with these stupid romantic mindsets about your ships, I find it much easier to reach my goals when I'm not all sentimental about a piece of _wood_."

"_Bueno_," coughed the small leader abruptly cutting that conversation, not wanting to argue that at the moment, "Why don't you tell me instead what the hell you're doing here? I have trouble believing you came all the way up here to simply _conversar_. If I remember correctly you're not one to chit-chat, _Ñ__ancupel_."

The younger man, Ñancupel, grinned insincerely ignoring his question for the second time. "Where's your Treasure Fleet, Villanueva?"

"_Que te importa a ti, cabrón?"_ Villanueva barked back defensively.

The man smirked eerily a gesture Villanueva was all too unhappy with because of its familiarity. Eduardo Villanueva had met Ñancupel years ago during his travels at the time, the Spanish pirate had been one of the few pirates to have sailed the seven seas and to have _survived_ the trip to the other side of the Southern Americas. It was during one of those trips, late in his pirate career that he met Ñancupel, an adolescent boy that had already made his name in those waters as _El pirata del fin del mundo,_ The Pirate of World's End. To Villanueva it had been a curious title, because his first thought had been if this amateur pirate, this _boy_, had actually found that entrance to every sailing man's hell without the legendary charts. However, the Spanish pirate lord had eventually come to understand that the name referred to the geographical nature of his raiding; all of them ranging from the coasts of the Inhabitable Atacama desert to the story speculated lands of the icy _Terra Australis_. He was in fact the pirate of the end of the world, literally speaking, but he was not like other pirates, Villanueva learned.

He had understood that when he met the young Ñancupel whose motives for piracy were far different from his own. Unlike most pirates, Ñancupel did not seek treasure, did not seek infamy and neither did he consider the ocean or a ship to be freedom. This boy sought revenge and freedom. But a freedom that was not as simple and untangled as that of every other pirate. It was something much more complicated.

"Well, I suppose word doesn't travel as fast as I would have imagined."

Villanueva knitted his eyebrows in suspicion, "Why's that?"

Ñancupel ignored him again and replied, "I have a package I need to have delivered."

"_¿Y a mi, qué?_ Do I look like your fucking _mensajero_? My fleet isn't for delivering packages."

"Actually, I thought you'd be interested in this package…well actually a gift of sorts."

"_¿Qué estas tramando?_ Villanueva asked nearly smelling the suspicion off the younger man. "I know you, Ñancupel. You're up to something."

"It's only un _regalito_ for nuestro dear _rey Felipe_," the southern pirate answered with evident falsity.

"_Por qué no dejas de joder, imbécil_ and get to the point?"

"Looks like I'll just have to show you then," Ñancupel said walking to a wooden box and picking it up, "I suppose you could say it's a gift for you too…you being from Spanish _nobleza_ and all."

"_No seas impertinente_," sneered Villanueva with a glare before eyeing the box again. He looked at him distrustfully as the man before him extended the box. He nodded towards it, "What's inside?"

I think you should _unwrap_ your gift first.

Still hesitant Villanueva looked at the cover of the box. Slowly sliding it off, there was this pungent smell that emitted from the inside

"_AH, bendita mi puta madre_!" screamed the filthy little man dropping the box as if it were the plague itself.

A head rolled out of it and tumbled down the ships rotting wooden floor, only adding more of a macabre atmosphere to the situation.

Villanueva gasped for air and angrily yelled, "Have you gone insane, _maldito_? _Quién puta es ese malnacido_?"

The man's answer consisted of a maniacal grin that spread across his tanned features. He picked up the head calmly and chuckled sinisterly, "Now is that how you treat a maybe distant cousin?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, _cabrón_? Who is that?"

In less than an instance, any trace of former amusement completely dissolved off Ñancupel's face. His eyes became void in the most unnerving manner, almost inhuman. It's Carmino Nicolas Caracciolo, my dearest Villanueva. He is the former viceroy of Perú, not a relative I guess then?"

The Spanish pirate lord had calmed down but started at the head with obvious revulsion, "You want to send _that_ to the king? Estas loco. You'll have the entire Spanish Armada on you in a matter of days!"

"I've already had the Spanish Armada on my tail, _tonto huevon_! Why the fuck do you think I'm here, _idiota_?" hissed Ñancupel. "It's only a matter of time until they send out more fleets!"

Villanueva looked at the man. There was a look of insanity that disturbed his expression even more. "What do you mean you _had_ the Spanish Armada on your tail?" asked the pudgy man hesitantly.

Sniffing out in between amusement and annoyance Ñancupel answered haughtily, "It means they're rotting in the depths del _Estrecho de Magallanes_. Those stupid _idiotas_. Don't they know rarely anyone ever makes it through?"

"Gone to Davy Jones Locker," Villanueva mumbled with eyes that were glazed in a distant look somewhere between awe and terror.

"I don't think Davy Jones is acquainted with _my_ side of the world," retorted Ñancupel arrogantly while placing the head back into the box before any civilians realized what it was.

Snapping back from his daze, Villanueva looked at the younger man stoically, "_Estas fuera de tus cabales, hombre, estas enfermo_. You should know, better than anyone, that they'll just replace him with another one."

With a furious speed and without another word, the small pirate leader was suddenly being gripped from his dirty leather vest. His attacker held him up to eye level, a frightening sight as he saw the lunacy and resentment clouded in those eyes and in his words, "_Me importa un culo si remplazan ha ese coche su madre de la gran puta_, but at least I had the satisfaction of hearing the screams of agony of that entire family as they burnt to their deaths!"

Choking to protest his abuse, the pudgy man tugged at his assaulter. "L-Letmego!" He whispered wide eyed, as his aggressors hand slowly loosened his grip.

The man's eyes gleamed with something so distorted that it was impossible to name but continued on his monologue. "And the children," He purred ominously. "Especially the children, they shrieked the most."

He finally let go of his portly prey who fell into a plump heap as he broke off his crazy reverie. I want to teach them a lesson, Villanueva. "_Me entiendes_? _Españoles, blancos de mierdas_, it won't be long till I kill them all. The world isn't yours for the taking, _cerdos_."

Getting up but still bewildered, Villanueva answered him, "Don't put me under that category. I dont sail under that flag or under any country."

"But you still pillage and steal _our_ resources, _our_ gold, _our_ silver. You lust after them like hungry swine. You pirates are no better; you idealize your crimes when in reality you're nothing but a bunch of delinquent scum."

"You forget," started the older man sharply, "that you _too_ are a pirate."

Snorting loudly the other man twisted his face into a sneer, "I don't put those stupid labels onto myself. I simply do what needs to be done, no matter what the cost for the benefit of my people and my land. And if I have to kill the family of every fucking viceroy that decides to come and oppress us I _will_."

"_No lo dudo_," the leader whispered softly almost afraid the other man might act up again.

The man looked at the box in his hands a moment and shoved it into the arms of Villanueva. "I don't care what liabilities are involved; you're wanted by almost everyone on these waters as it is. _Dale este regalito_, to his Majesty."

At first the pirate lord was about to protest but decided better against it. Ñancupel was dangerous because he held a grudge and a man with a grudge was the worst of all men, capable of nearly anything. So, Villanueva decided to agree.

"There have been times when you have done me good favors when I've been on that side of that ocean, so I will grant you this errand. I just hope you know that you can't hide here. If you do this, Rio is the first place they'll come and look for you."

Smirking maliciously he said, "That's why you're going to tell me where I _can_ hide."

The Spanish pirate thought a while and suggested. "Tortuga?" He grinned with a lifted brow. "It is where all those of the Brethren of the Coast find sanctuary."

Ñancupel snorted in amusement. "You mean it's an overpopulated brothel island where men find comfort in sex and drink."

_Pues, hombre_, I wouldn't necessarily put it under _those_ terms but –"

"_Yo se muy bien, Villanueva_, that you have certain _investments_ in a whorehouse up north. _No estaras, tratando_ to sell your _putas_ to me?"

Aggravated by the younger man's words he replied, "_Mis putas_, as you so suavely put, are for any who is in search of a warm bed. Now if your _gustos_ tend to lie elsewhere, that too can be arranged–"

Before he could even continue, Ñancupel already had his ropera sword pressed against the older man's throat, "_No te metes conmigo, culiado_. I don't fancy your _putas_ or any _putas_ for that matter because they are filled with your white man diseases that do us more harm than your weapons."

Villanueva wanted to respond to that, telling him straight out that if he hadn't looked at himself in a mirror lately to realize that he too carried white man's blood even if he didn't want it.

"W-well then, that's a different story. However, I still recommend Tortuga. Neither Royal Navies nor Armadas will bother you there. For the meantime, I would suggest you stop at lesser ports to maintain your profile low," the Spanish pirate spoke all the while maintaining a ready hand to pull out his cutlass if necessary.

An ill grin transformed Ñancupels face as he removed his sword from the other man's throat, "Well then, Tortuga it is, even if I have to tolerate this disgusting tropical weather." Laughing softly he addressed the man before him one last time, "A million _gracias_, _Eduardo Villanueva_. I know how much this could affect your _reputation_, but could you do me one _last_ favor?"

"What is it?" he asked with apparent scorn.

A simple self-satisfied smirk appeared on the face of the other man.

"Tell _your_ king, that _Pedro Maria Ñancupel Alarcon_ sends many wishes towards his good health because he'll be needing it."

_1720, Port Royal, Jamaica_

There were a number of reasons why she had to question why any officer, of any time period, would place a man with a woman in the same prison cell. Of course the logic that trespassed through the minds of the redcoats known as Murtogg and Mullroy at the time had been valid enough for them

"Do you think we should place him in the same cell with the girl?" said Murtogg to Mullroy.

"Well, it can't really be that dangerous. I mean he's more the threat if we put him with the other prisoners."

"Whys that?"

"Because he'll have more accomplices, that's why!"

"Oh.

"Besides, I heard she's a Spanish spy, so there shouldn't be any trouble."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Because if she's a _Spanish_ spy, then she must probably speak only _Spanish_ right?"

Murtogg nodded his head lamely, "So?"

"SO, that means that if we put this here Jack Sparrow in here with her they won't be able to communicate, seeing how she only speaks Spanish!"

"Brilliant!"

"Right then!"

And that of course was the end of their ever _rational_ decision of putting a Pirate Captain into the same cell that was occupied by a seventeen year old girl.

So, when the impact of rum with sewer stench shocked her senses along with being hit with the dead weight of an unconscious man, Iris Uriquizá had woken up to realize that she was probably in an even worse predicament than before. Basically after having pushed off Stinky Breath Man (as she had come to call him) off of her, she had pulled him to another corner of the cell hoping that he wouldn't wake up for a long time.

Iris had gone back to her mid-spot and simply curled up again falling into another depressing nap. Having attributed her dreams mostly to oversleep, seeing how she had nothing else better to do, she figured that ignoring the strange dreams for now was best. God knew she didn't want to start thinking of them under Freudian terms because who knew what weird stuff she'd discover underneath _that_ dream analysis. She was too disoriented to think about that anyway. There were times when she would remember the life she had left behind only a few days ago. She would never go to school again, never see her parents, she'd never go to college…

Then of course this train of thought would inevitably lead to Frankie. Iris was more than convinced that she wouldn't be in this scenario if it weren't for that _stupid_ ritual. Stupid, stupid Frankie.

After having spent two days in the cell without distraction, aside the constant baiting of the prisoners next to her cell that was more irritating than distracting, she sought her naps to escape from her reality. Every time she woke up she would slowly open her eyes hoping to whatever higher force there was to make it all into only a really bad dream so she would wake up in her warm bed ready to go to school.

But it was not so. She was still in that clammy cell with the horrific stench that had subsided considering that she herself wasn't smelling too great and her mind was too preoccupied with the pain in her stomach to worry about any smells unless it was food. They hadn't fed her since she had been thrown into the cell. Why would they? If they were going to hang her, she was going to die anyway, what was wrong with starving her, right?

At least that was what she assumed their mentality was unless that evil lieutenant had been purposely ordering them not to feed her. Iris didn't put it past him. That was for sure.

She had just had her fifth nap that day and her head was booming with a migraine. The prisoners next to her were goading a dog that held the keys to its mouth only making her headache worst.

"Come here, boy ... Want a nice, juicy bone?" The dog remained indifferent and their clattering only annoyed her more.

She swore that if they kept on going at it she was going to finally give them a piece of her mind after having kept her mouth shut throughout their baiting. However, someone seemed to have beaten her to it.

"You can keep on doin' that forever, that dogs _never_ going to move," said a voice behind her. Iris could only assume that Stinky Breath Man had woken up.

One of the men from the next cell answered rather sarcastically, "Excuse us if we ain't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet." And so they kept on their goading. Waggling the stupid bone in front of the dog and chiding it to come forward, it only looked at them with this clueless canine expression. But most importantly, they just wouldn't shut up. Barely a croaking whisper she cracked the words out from her dry throat and parched lips, "Shut up." Of course no one heard her it was so softly said, her voice practically inaudible. Trying again with more firmness she spoke again, "Shut up."

At this point, she had said it at a decent volume and they hadn't listened and the clanking of the bone against the bars was driving her insane. _Cling, cling, cling._

So naturally, she snapped. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up you pieces of white trash. Just shut the fuck up!"

They did. They all wore the same bewildered expression of having heard the same girl who hadn't spoken a word to them since she was placed in the cell. There was also the fact that the last thing they all expected to hear was a teenage girl cursing like a sailor.

Iris sighed in frustration, rubbing her temples in attempt to ease the pain in her head. Shed give a limb for a Tylenol and a glass of water at the moment.

The dead silence turned into soft murmurings eventually turning into gossipy whispers.

_She's a spy for 'em Spanish._

_Did ya hear when she refused to be the Lieutenant's woman?_

Shaking her head in irritation, she interrupted their little brown-nosing session. "_Yo_, seriously, it's not like I'm not here. I can _still_ hear what you're God damn saying! So I'd really appreciate if you guys just stopped talking _shit_ about _me _in front _of _me."

Almost forgetting about Stinky Breath Man, she heard a low chuckle behind her, "Easy there, luv."

Surprised at the way he had talked to her, the girl made this face that said _What the…?_

"Oh hell no, don't you call _me_ love. I don't even _know_ you," Iris started defensively blowing air through her teeth. "In fact, I don't think you should even be talking to me."

In fact she found it completely astonishing that people had nastier manners in this century than her own. _Oh well, I guess this isn't going to be like _Pride and Prejudice.

"Now that's not very nice." Said the anti-hygienic man who she still hadn't turned around to see but whose playfulness resounded in his voice.

Too bad she wasnt in the mood to for playfulness.

She made this incredulous face to herself, Not very nice? "Yeah, like suck it up bozo."

_Great, lucky me I'm stuck with a bunch of retrograde idiots in a retrograde century…you'd think things would be a little more _proper_ in the 18th Century even if they are criminals…guess not._

"Is it me or are we not on common terms here, luv?" Resounded the man's voice.

"Trust me, she answered firmly. We are not on any terms what-so-ever especially if you plan on calling me –"

Before she even finished her sentence the sound of chaos emitted from outside. The first thing she thought was that they were being bombed. But then of course that didn't make any sense because they weren't _supposed_ to have bombs yet… not the large scale ones anyway.

The man behind her said as a matter-of-fact almost whispering, "I know those guns."

Well, at least she knew what they were. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried. However, she tried comforting herself anyway. "_Hell if I made it through 911, a little backward gun fire won't do any harm, right?"_

Beyond anything else, Iris really hoped she was right. She really _really _hoped.

:D Well that took me sometime to think up of. Im trying to make this as realistic as possible. I mean Ive read so many back-in-time stories where the character just accepts whats going on with such ease that Im like WTF? I mean if I were in Iris shoes Id be scared shitless and seriously confused. Its not like oh Im in another time period, cool. Hello, youre taken to another dimension, you dont know where you are, you come from a city where some of the worst crimes are committed: a billion scenarios are racing through your mind. Time traveling is the most far fetched one. I want Iris to act like a _real_ teenage girl whos in disbelief, who wants to go home, and realizes that this is in fact not cool. Im sure the idea of being stuck with Jack Sparrow is appealing to all of us POTC lovers but if you were in fact taken from the world you know and then not know how to defend yourself in a completely different society, trust me, the last thing youd be thinking about is getting laid by a Pirate.


	8. Libertad Libertad

**Chapter 8: Libertad Libertad**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Author's Note:**_ Yay! Done with another Chapter finally. This one I really had a hard time writing because even I felt nervous writing a supposed encounter between Jack Sparrow and someone with 21st Century ideas. I hope you enjoy it and find it true enough to the canon because I even went back to the DVD movie for referral on Jack's behavior and reactions while I wrote this up. If you have any comments, or better yet questions, on something you'd like clarified, don't hesitate to ask. As for the rest R&R :D

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**Libertad Libertad**

There was this old man Iris used to look after during her community service hours. She'd do them at a nursing home and even though she had been somewhat reluctant to go at first, she eventually adjusted and even began to enjoy some of the time that she spent there. But there was that one man she took care of that would tell her stories of his life – which had been a very full and interesting one – and sometimes he would begin to tell her his recollections of the Vietnam War. One thing she remembered was how he had described the grenades that blew past him and the missiles that fired from the jets above like raining fire of the apocalypse. Unfortunately, one missile had exploded nearly right next to him and it had been miracle that he hadn't been blown to pieces. But that explosion, when he heard it plunge into the ground, the only thing he could remember was being knocked off his feet and when he finally got up, everything around him looked like watching a movie on mute. For several minutes, he had explained, he couldn't hear a damn thing.

So of course cannon fire had caught her completely unawares and in a similar position. Gathering that they _were_ in a fortress, they could be considered safe, she hadn't anticipated a blow anywhere near her. But curiously, she figured that perhaps she should be somewhat alert if the reactions around her were reliable enough to judge off.

"I know those guns…it's the _Pearl_." The man had spoken the name almost lovingly – a husky whisper filled with anticipation.

Iris hadn't bothered looking back once to see through the window at the outside world, but now that the noise of gunshots seemed to be getting closer and closer, her curiosity was piqued to peak through the small barred window. Barely able to hold herself up from fatigue and of not being fed for two days straight she grabbed onto the bars of the cell lifting herself up but not without instinctually placing her hand to her paining stomach. In fact, she swore that she must have lost at least a good ten pounds.

There was also the fact that she had been holding her bladder since she got there. Thankfully it wasn't too difficult a task to hold it in considering she didn't have much to hold since she wasn't consuming anything.

At the other cell, one of the gangly prisoners had stood up and spoke through the bars in obvious fear, "_The Black Pearl_? I've heard stories…She's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years…never leaves any survivors."

"No survivors, eh?" answered her smelly-breath cellmate cheekily along with a self-sufficient grin that spoke volumes of his ego already. "Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?"

Actually, until now, Iris had not really looked at her jail-partner, but now as she studied the back of his head as he hogged the window, she made out his Jamaican styled dreadlocks that were colorfully decorated with beads that were _very_ worn out along with a matching filthy wardrobe – a blouse that was begging for Clorox and a pair of pants with a buckle that had never seen a dry cleaner.

In other words, he was a more tastefully dressed hobo…_yippee_.

With what seemed less than a few seconds of having finalized that thought, this unfamiliar whizzing sound impacted the back wall of the cell. All of a sudden she was being pushed to the corner of the cell onto the floor.

Iris shut her eyes tightly.

…_Please, please…let me wake up…PLEASE…_

But of course, no such luck because it wasn't a dream. This was reality as fabricated as it may all have seemed, this was in fact what she was living and it was Darwinism at its best. While she may have been fit for her own time, she certainly was not fit for here.

In a fuzzy background she pushed the mass off of her with the little strength she had. The mass on top of her, unfortunately, had not been debris of the fort but Stinky. He smiled a smile that shone of golden replacement teeth and unfazed said, "'Ello there." His breath however was enough to make her feel even more disoriented if not gruesomely nauseas.

"Get off of me!" growled the New Yorker pushing him with more strength as he tumbled to the side. Her head felt like it had been split in two and, like the man at the nursing home said, her ears felt like they had been popped though she attributed the pain more to being pushed brutishly by the man who shared her cell than the actual cannon fire.

What felt like eons away, she heard softly to her left someone saying, "My sympathies, friends, you've no manner of luck at all…"

Having regained slight control over herself, Iris realized what the condolences were for. There in the back laid a hole lit by moonlight – unfortunately it was a reminder that fate existed solely to mock her like a tragic play with too much dramatic irony because the explosion had favored those next to her but not her. Instead, there on her cell's side lay a slight gap that not even a runway model could fit through.

She sighed and sucked on her teeth, "_Fuck."_ If there was a God he must not only have forgotten her but he must have hated her as well if both this and the dreams were omens to go by. How was it that of all the possibilities in the world, that explosion could not have made the hole a _little bit_ bigger?

No doubt that whatever attack had just occurred would be blamed on her – the "Spanish spy." And now she really wanted to cry because no doubt she would now definitely be raped by that stupid Gillette and _then_ be hanged. But before she could even begin to tear her cellmate had begun to take action on his own.

"Come on, doggy. It's just you and me now. It's you and ol' Jack—come on. Come on, good boy." Having picked up the bone that the other prisoners left behind he began to waggle the thing as a form of persuasion.

But the dog remained unmoved and more than probably, unconvinced. He cocked a head to side that would have been a form of mockery had he been human.

"Maybe you should use the one in your hair," Iris snickered cynically already frustrated with her luck. "You never know, it might taste better."

"And there's no use in sulkin' there darlin'. What precisely have _you_ done te get ye'self out of here?"

That stung and it made her stand up in a straighter posture out of defiance. But furthermore, it pissed her off that he was absolutely right, she had done nothing to get herself from in here to out _there_.

The fashionable hobo continued baiting the dog who had now begun to take very slight steps foward, "That's it, good boy; come on! Bit clos'r, bit clos'r. That's it, _that's it_, doggy. Come on you filthy, slimy, mangy cat."

A loud noise came from the stairs ahead and the dog pranced away…along with the keys in its mouth.

"No, no, no, no, no! I didn' mean it," he started pitifully. "I didn'…"

Yet the unconscious guard that rolled down the stairs caught the attention of both of them now.

The spine of her cellmate went rigid as he saw the filthy, decomposing men that walked down following. A rowdy voice spoke from a scrawny figure, "Nah, this ain't the armory."

The other man though, a man that looked like a rotting vagabond with dreadlocks, caught sight of Stinky Breath Man and the intention lit up his eyes, "Well, well, well, look what we have here Twigg, Captain Jack Sparrow."

Spitting repugnantly towards Stinky Breath Man, the other man equally as disgusting as the first snapped, "Last time I saw you, you were all _alone_ on a godforsaken island, shrinking into the distance," Laughing in mockery he added, "His fortunes aren't improved much."

Smartly the imprisoned man replied "Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and _mutineers_."

The other man made a swift movement catching both Iris and her cellmate off-guard. She shrieked at not only the sudden attack on Stinky Breath Man as the other dreadlocked man grabbed his throat, but also at the man's arm before her – a skeletal, fleshless arm.

"So there is a curse," Stinky Breath Man said calmly as he curiously gazed at the bone arm. "…That's interesting…"

Transforming his face into an ugly sneer, the dreadlocked man let go of the other man's throat and simply spat, "You know nothing of Hell." And with that they left back up the stairs.

Her cellmate simply rubbed his throat and picked up the bone he was formerly wagging, looking at it intriguingly, "That's _very_ interesting…"

Hearing a sudden sharp intake of breath, Iris realized that it had been herself. "What…the…what the _hell_ was _that_?"

"That, luv," said the smelly man turning around with a highly factual look on his face as he pointed towards where the men had left off to, "is an example of what happens when you don't listen to mum and eat all your vegetables."

"His arm," choked Iris out, "it turned into pure _bone_. And you're…you're here cracking jokes on how I should fucking eat my veggies?"

The man was unbelievable. Was everyone in this time period so messed up in the head? Who could he try and be funny, brushing off what had just happened when the guy's arm looked like he had just stuck it out of Michael Jackson's _Thriller_ video?

Placing her palms onto her eyes, the dark haired girl said softly, "You know what, I'm probably just hallucinating right? Because…because that did _not_ just happen. I mean I haven't eaten in _days._ That has got to count for something…I had to become delusional eventually."

"Why's that luv?"

"Why's what?" She asked irritated removing her palms from her eyes, looking at the man who had now inched closer to her.

She could now make out his general facial features – he wore a mustache and a beard that was braided into little trinkets as well. The girl hadn't really noticed the red bandana up until now. The thought of her local neighborhood Blood Gang with red Du-rags popped into her mind randomly at its familiarity.

"Why haven't you been fed properly?" He said gesticulating with his hands rather emphatically.

Letting out a sigh she explained, "Because I'm supposed to be hanged. Why would they bother giving me food if I'm going to die anyway?"

The man seemed to reflect on this piece of information momentarily before asking another question. "And what precisely was the _gravity_ of your crime, in order for you to deserve such a…" his mouth was still open as if in search for the proper words, until he came up with, "_callous_ sentence?"

Iris Uriquizá laughed sadly at that thinking precisely how pathetic this was – talking about her death sentence with a criminal who probably had nothing much to live for anyway.

"I'm going to be hanged because according to the gifted minds of the British army, I'm a Spanish spy who's plotting to take over their colonies all on my own." She said it sarcastically with bitterness. Iris had always hated the military back in 2008 – but this only added to her animosity towards them.

The man who shared Iris's cell thought on her response for a second. He was a not a simpleton and was quite good at putting things together. So naturally the mentioning that this girl was going to be facing the gallows along with him was News. Not just news, but _News_.

Women weren't so often hanged unless they were guilty of something _very_ incriminating.

And a Spanish spy? A _female_ spy? Now _that_ was definitely news. Of course there were things that didn't seem to add up, she was obviously refuting the accusation – but that obviously could be over looked. But then there was that strange accent she spoke with. Not any sort of English he had ever heard, and it definitely didn't sound like a _Spanish_ accent to him. There was also that sailor mouth she had…

"Well then," He said with a golden tooth grin. "It seems we're two peas in a pod, luv."

"Yeah…well, life's a bitch and then you die, right?"

"Oh not at all, luv! I don't plan on crossing over if you know what I mean. I'm just waiting…for the opportune moment."

She couldn't believe this guy. Oh boy, he was real nutter. And now she wasn't sure whether she should be freaked out by what he was saying or if she should blow him off. With a false smile in her voice she said "Yeah? Well don't forget to give me a heads up when it comes by."

The man just smirked at her with his golden grin and stared at her in a way that was beginning to make her nervous. Refusing to meet his eyes she began to look at her fingernails…her very _dirty_ fingernails.

"You don't know who I am do you, luv?" He spoke suddenly.

"Uh…_no_. Why, should I?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said making big emphatic gestures with his hands as if presenting himself should have been a revelation to her.

"Um…okay, that's nice," she responded with a forced smile giving him the thumbs up, "That's great, good for you. You know I did hear when that guy said your name so…yeah…" She then made sure to slowly slide away from him an inch or two more as they now both sat down on the hay and concrete floor.

The man proclaiming himself as Captain Jack Sparrow looked at her with a now fallen face. "You _have_ heard of me…?"

"Uh, no….no. I'm sorry but I haven't. In fact, you know, just to make you feel better you could have said the name of the most famous person in the world right now and I would not have a clue about who you're talking about. So there, don't feel upset 'cause I didn't know your name, it's nothing personal. I just don't have a good…" she moved her hand in a circular motion, "…understanding of things at the moment."

"Where are you from?" asked the Captain looking at her suspiciously. "You're not from aroun' here, are ya?"

"No, I'm not, not at all. Actually I'm from New York."

Looking at her curiously, he said "New York? That's a bit far from here…What's your name, luv?"

Biting her lip she didn't want to tell him because he too would probably buy the gimmick the officers did of 'Spanish spy'…but what did it really matter if she was going to die anyway.

"Iris Uriquizá"

"Ah, so it is that ye Spanish after all!"

"No, NO. I'm not Spanish. I just told you – I'm from New York."

"With a name like that, it's difficult not to think otherwise. But your father must 'ave been, eh?"

"No, my dad wasn't Spanish either. Look I have Spanish…ancestry, that's all. "

He simply smiled a smile that said he didn't buy what she was saying but wasn't going to push further.

"Fashion must have changed since the last time I went up North."

"…What?" She asked looking at the Captain with an aggravated look on her face. It was only after she followed the man's eye direction that she noticed he was looking at her dressing. "Oh…well…yeah, what can I say…latest fashion up there."

As if he had figured something out, he grinned a full golden smile at her and continued on staring.

Becoming fidgety under his gaze she thought she might as well get some use out of the situation.

"So…you haven't told me anything about yourself," she started and saw that he was about to say something and quickly cut him off with, "except the fact that you're 'Captain Jack Sparrow' and I should know who that is. But, since I don't know, why don't _you_ tell me who Captain Jack Sparrow is?"

"I'm a Pirate, luv" he said with a smirk of complete self-satisfaction as if that one phrase explained everything.

And in reality Iris didn't know what to say because she only knew what a pirate was in terms of Captain Hook or the movies they produced off books like _Treasure Island_. But in reality, besides having read romanticized poems and narratives on them, she knew virtually nothing. And though Iris would have liked nothing but to ask 'what do pirates do?' she also knew that looking stupid, or insane, was not the best course of action. Even if he himself seemed to be a nutter – and hell he could even be lying about it but she didn't think so having smelt that rancid dirty sewer smell on him that reminded her of Rockaway Beach on a nasty humid day.

"Oh" was what she finally settled for.

Feeling awkward she knew she ought to add something to that and began with, "So Captain do you – "

"Jack"

"I'm sorry?" She asked confused at having been interrupted and feeling more disoriented as the man's gaze became more intense, an intensity that would have looked more appropriate on a student trying to figure out a math problem.

"It's Jack, luv, seeing how we're in a rather _intimate_ setting, as it were."

Laughing genuinely she said, "Yeah, you've got a point…Uh Jack, sorry about the bozo thing from before…and the bone thing too…"

"What?" he said quirking up an eyebrow in question.

"You know, from before, when I was rude to you…when I told everyone to shut up…?"

"Ha! Aye, I remember…No apologies needed for that," he said grinning. "Besides, I never forget when a lass knows how to curse like a sailor."

Iris sucked her teeth as she heard his comment, "Whatever. That's such a sexist thing to say. Why is it okay if a man curses but all of a sudden it's like taboo if a girl does it?"

"I don't agree on all the rules of propriety meself, what being a Pirate and all," He explained emphatically with widening of his eyes. "But I suppose that there should be a sort of a _refinement_ to what a woman does."

Grinning smartly, Iris responded, "So then, what's the problem? Women can curse – they just have to be more refined about it."

"Aye, luv" he said chuckling, "I won't argue that." Fixing her with that stare of his he asked Iris, "What was it that you were going to ask me before?"

"Oh, well, I was going to ask if you had…" She felt stupid asking him because it really was a stupid question. After all if he _was_ a pirate…

He gestured her to continue. "A what, luv?"

"…if you had a ship…" Iris finished feeling somewhat dumbly. He probably thought she was a total idiot and a loser.

"Unfortunately, I don't have it at my…disposal at the moment." He answered disgruntled, "I did, however, have it before that bloody bastard from me crew marooned me and sailed away with it."

Iris stared at him in honest surprise. "Wow, your own crew stole your ship…that's pretty messed up. Couldn't you just get another one?" She asked wondering curiously.

"I could have, luv, but never one like _Her_. She's one of kind and _rightfully_ mine." His eyes became distant as he thought about the ship he had been running after for a little over a decade already.

"A pirate without a ship – that sucks _majorly_, but I guess you weren't such a nice Captain…?" Iris ended the phrase in an open question instead to not insult him.

"Being Captain isn't about being _nice_, _Iris_."

"No but people don't revolt without a reason, _Jack_. People revolt because they feel that they're being treated unfairly. So the question is: did you treat your fellow pirates fairly?"

Had anyone told her in 2008 that she would wake up in 1720 and have a conversation with a pirate about civil working rights she would have laughed her ass off but yet, it seemed that this was precisely what she was doing; and it was as random as hell.

The pirate moved his eyes a little hesitantly before smiling and saying, "Yes…yes, I did. I was a great Captain, gave them whatever they want – _which_ is what got me in this bloody mess in the first place. I gave too much and then they just wanted more."

Iris laughed at his display because it reminded her of a little kid who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. "No you didn't, you liar. It's written all over you face. I bet you didn't share equally at all and _that's_ why you got mutinied against. Those guys who came in here didn't look too happy to see their former leader."

"I may have been a tinsy bit…unfair," he admitted with a reluctant look on his and a forced narrow-eyed smile. "But, I was Captain! And Captains are supposed to get the better part of the plundering!"

"You know I honestly don't know much about being a pirate but…that doesn't sound too fair to me. I think a leader should share equally among his fellows _especially_ a pirate," began Iris while her cellmate looked at her deep in concentration. "I mean isn't that what being an outlaw is all about, defying the complacencies of society? I think that if you're supposed to be an authoritative figure in your own alter society you should try to be better than those you hate not _like_ them. I mean in this case what's the difference between you and King George then. King George says well I'm king, I deserve the better part of the benefits of our economy and you're practically saying the same thing – so what's the point of defying this system you obviously dislike if you're going to imitate it, just simply at a different scale. What's the point of becoming a pirate if you can get the same kicks by just climbing up the social ladder of a society that already exists?"

The man grinned a little and responded widening his eyes a bit as he leaned against the front bars. "Ah, but in this already existing society I'm not King George am I?"

"No you're not King George, but that doesn't mean you can't be," Iris replied slightly ambiguously with a knowing smile.

The Captain looked at her from underneath his hat that half hid his eyes casting an ominous shadow over his face. A smirk grew onto his face as he interpreted the meaning of her words, "Well, well…looks like you're a Spanish spy after all."

She laughed and sniffed a bit, "Or maybe I'm _not_ a Spanish spy but I'm simply not a conformist. Is it so horrible to want progress?"

"Ambition is powerful thing, luv. It gives us wind to sail but also storm to sink. Though personally between you and me luv, I don't think _progress_ is too bad a thing even if King Georgie don't be liking it much himself, eh?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Iris started quickly, "I didn't mean progress in terms of personal…success. I meant progress as…forget it. It's too complicated." She finally ended up leaning further into the wall, looking up at the ceiling frustrated to not be able to explain herself or be understood in a time period where the only thing 'progress' could ever mean was climbing up the social latter.

"You meant progress as…" started the Captain who leaned closer towards her and who finally whispered his revelation, with a grin, the way you'd hush out a secret, "…_freedom_."

Iris Uriquizá smiled at him and looked at him nodding her head softly, "Yeah, something like that. But definitely…yeah, freedom should be a part of it."

The man made these fancy gestures with his hands that she found somewhat eccentric but not at all uncomfortable when it came from him. He smiled a toothy golden grin and said, "But that's what being a pirate is all about, luv. It's about _freedom_, to be able to sail across every sea, every ocean without margins, " At this, the man's hands where gesturing to the lengths of the ocean to the sailing across them while a certain glaze that over took his eyes. "The world without bounds."

Iris stared at him, it was obvious that he held that ideal at heart but to her it seemed too romantic…and too unreal.

"But freedom is such a relative term. Okay, so I agree that piracy is a form of freedom for all of us but…there are a lot of subjective things involved when you talk about _freedom_. Freedom for you obviously," she said gesturing to him, "means sailing without restriction or censor and I guess doing…whatever pirates do without regulation." At this point Iris's cellmate laughed heartily and she just smiled and continued, "But _freedom_ can also mean…for a woman to have the same right as any man to get an education and seek a career. Freedom can mean that it doesn't matter what gender or skin color or religion I am because we all deserve to have the same rights and opportunities. Freedom can mean that I should have the right to voice my opinion, to be heard and not be persecuted for it. Freedom _should_ mean…not having to wait for the opportune moment because…it should always be there."

This time the Captain had his gaze looking down with his lower lip slightly pouted he nodded his head slightly in agreement, "I agree with you luv, we all see freedom differently…hmm, depending on your angle that is of course." He kept his mouth slightly open as if looking for something more to say, "I think it's best we both get a bit a shut eye, long day tomorrow."

"Long day tomorrow?" asked Iris realizing that he had cut the conversation short. She simply laughed cynically, "You can sleep when you're dead."

"Aye, but since I don't plan on hastening to my death, tomorrow will be long day," he smiled forcedly and ended with, "Because I said so."

So almost immediately, grunting in a clumsy manner, he put his worn out tri-corner hat underneath his head and with a draped arm covered his eyes for darkness. He seemed to have fallen asleep well enough – or at least appeared to anyway.

Sighing in frustration she wondered about all the problems that awaited her parents who were probably worried sick and she wondered if Frankie was eating her heart out now that she had disappeared. She hoped that Frankie felt guilty because she wanted someone to be feeling at least two percent as shitty as her in her current circumstances. And if there was anyone to blame, it was that stupid blonde haired bitch.

Iris also thought about how fatigued conversing with this man had made her in her current malnourished and weakened state. Her thirst was greater than her hunger though and her tongue felt so dried that it could have been used for sand-paper. Even though she felt more worn out than before, the small social interaction was much needed, having realized how depressed she was before she had had any social interaction with anyone for the past two days.

A cold breeze came in from the opening the cannon fire had made. Shuttering involuntary Iris felt herself get goosebumps. With her fragile state it was no wonder she was so sensitive to a short breeze – she was probably going to get sick with her already lagging immune system.

"You know, luv," she heard the voice of the man say, "if you're cold, ol' Jack can fix that in an instant if you come over here with me." The playful cockiness could be heard a mile a way.

Snorting in disgust she picked up hay from the floor and threw it at him, "Yeah, maybe when you buy a jar full of Tic Tacs."

"A jar full of _what_?"

"Never mind, just go back to sleep."

"My offer still stands, luv" He said gazing at her through heavy lids, "It's human nature you know, to want human contact."

She smiled falsely and said, "And I've had enough of that for today."

With a golden grin, the infamous (to all but Iris Uriquizá ) Captain Jack Sparrow fell asleep but not without having caught the slightly humored smile that graced the lips of a particular New Yorker.

**Notes**: For everyone who reviewed last time thanks a bunch, I really appreciate it – not to mention it inspires and motivates me loads to continue (and to write faster, lol). Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this. I tried to make the interaction as realistic as possible. At this point I figured, Iris shouldn't be too afraid to speak to those around having been stuck for a near three days in a cell. What I'm wondering though if Jack's reactions are true enough to the conversations since that's what I think gives us insight into these two characters at the moment. And another thing I have a hard time with – Pirate language! Now I've been needing this for sometime but haven't had the time or the guts to ask but I finally I see that I really do need this: I need a Beta reader. Anyone interested? Don't hesitate to contact me. For the rest of my faithful readers, love you and keep sendin' them reviews!


	9. The Mechanical Advantanges of Leverage

**Chapter 9: The Mechanical Advantanges of Leverage**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Author's Note:**_ _Thanks so much for all of you who've reviewed! And especially thanks to my new beta-reader Capt. Blue-Eyed Jane who's helped me fix this story into better shape!_

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**The Mechanical Advantages of Leverage**

Captain Jack Sparrow understood, more than anyone perhaps, that freedom was in fact quite relative. So relative it was that one man's prison could more than certainly be another man's ticket to liberation. However, for our Captain, freedom could only be seen through a narrow and specific view. This _freedom_ was only seen through the headings of his ship – the _Black Pearl_. The only problem was that this view of freedom was a one-way telescope that created blind-spots everywhere else throughout. And unfortunately, Jack Sparrow did not see this – his own ideas were blindfolding him to everything else the world had to offer…or perhaps it is better to say that he purposely blinded himself to that one idea because it was easier that way, wasn't it?

If he didn't stop to think about the corrupt political agendas between parliaments and monarchies, if he didn't stop to think about the poverty, if he didn't stop to think about the underdevelopment, if he didn't stop to think about the pillaging that both government and pirate did to the New World, if he didn't stop to think about the global hegemony created by monopolistic business companies – then it was a lot easier, right?

Because that way, freedom looked a lot simpler – _freedom_ wasn't complex at all if you saw it through that one lens that could only fit a ship in the sea. That way, freedom was justified to become something achieved through selfish impulse and…_curiosity_? …Right.

Well, it sounded so much nicer that way, didn't it? Sugar coating a term that was meant to spark altruistic behavior was a lot easier to use and believe in when you twisted it around for your own conveniences…and peace of mind. This way, being the self-centered figure that means to be a pirate, was much more bearable. And pretending not to see what went on in the rest of the world was all in all blissful ignorance.

But every pirate knows, on some small darkened corner of their mind that things aren't as simple as they want them to be – that's why they become pirates in the first place, right? Well, some of them anyway – those who didn't set out to seek that romanticized adventure that piracy had been painted out to be…those who actually had set off to search for a new way of life rather than novel-like adventures.

All this Jack Sparrow understood…in some far _far_ corner of his conscience. Except no-one had really blurted it out in his face or gave him a _good_ reality check – because let's face it, who was going to bring _that_ up when those he associated with either were on the side that didn't want to hear it (and weren't _eloquent_ enough to vocalize it anyway) or were on the other side where they definitely weren't going to talk shit about themselves.

Therefore, freedom had always been and still remained _The Black Pearl_.

Nevertheless, there was something that shook Captain Jack Sparrow when he met the peculiar girl, Iris Uriquizá. What she had said didn't necessarily touch him, because that would have been plain out exaggerating but it was somewhat…_disconcerting_.

It wasn't the liberal mindset, he was a pirate after all – it was simply that you didn't come across Enlightenment thinking in a prison cell especially in the middle of the Caribbean. Or at least that's what he had interpreted this girl's liberal speech to be – some discharge of cycling ideas that had begun only recently to spread barely across more _lenient_ parts of Europe.

In fact, Jack Sparrow had only caught wind of it as light rumor through travels – things like that, in spite of everything, were of little concern to pirates. What did they care what a couple of rich, well-to-do scholars were philosophizing when the rest of the population were too busy thinking about how they were going to eat the next day? Not very much, obviously.

But this was indeed _interesting_. The girl was young from what he could make out – but it was difficult to say an exact age when it was so dimly lit in the cells. The first thing that had struck him was the strange dressing she wore. Now, he was no stranger to women in breeches because many a pirate lass he had come across dressed in men clothes but this was different. Had he seen that same dressing on a man, he still would have thought it odd. It was simply out of place, almost unsettling to look at in comparison to every other setting he could think of that was native to the 18th Century he lived in.

The breeches were strange for starters because they weren't even breeches – they were a strange material that looked course and…bluish. It was simply questionable…and then there was the blouse that wasn't a blouse either…it just looked wrong. It was simple, to be sure, but it didn't look…normal. It barely reached her elbows and it fit on rather loose. Then there was the footwear – not shoes, not boots…what _were_ they? The material wasn't leather but not quite cloth either…it was definitely a perturbing image for anyone who hadn't ever seen the likes of something like it. The only thing familiar about the whole outfit was the overall worn out look from being put through general un-cleanliness.

And all this he observed in quietude of the early morning while his cellmate rested asleep in an awkward fetal position. With morning light he also saw some other of her features that only left him with more pieces to an unsolved puzzle.

Remembering how she spoke the other night, an observation he had made was her speech that was contradicting in itself and also out-of-place…just like the rest of her. Her accent was strange but not foreign. But the strangest thing of all was how she spoke – not sounding cultivated or showing any sign of wealthy background but in the most contradicting manner, she still expressed herself in an educated and intellectual manner – but all in all informal.

And then there was more questioning as to whether she was lying about her background or not, and the still dim light did not do him any service in helping him figure out what ethnicity she was by looking at her facial features. He did, however, recognize that she had a piercing on each earlobe…but no actual adornment.

From what Jack knew with his experiences, no _lady_ pierced her ears. There were other cultures where piercing was common but none in the Western world. And even if the girl had, per say, picked up the custom from somewhere else…the piercing usually held some sort of trinket but definitely not left there…bland for the world to see.

She just didn't add up – at all.

And this, pathetically, had been his current source of entertainment – the studying of his fellow jail-mate's character. Now, this wasn't a usual practice of his, the studying of character that is, but from time to time, he would find himself in need to _understand_ another.

Had this been any other situation, he wouldn't have looked twice at the girl – if only to stare at her strange dressing, but aside from that she would have been a fleeting passerby. One of the many strange sights he'd beheld throughout his lifetime.

But since the current circumstances were rather in lack of normalcy, Captain Jack Sparrow amused himself in figuring out the New Yorker 'may-or-may-not-be spy.'

His amusement, however, did not last long. In fact, he had only spent a little over five minutes contemplating all this within his mind until he began once more attending to the task of greater importance – escaping his prison cell.

Looking at the bone he had initially used to persuade the dog, he came up with a more heuristic plan of action. Taking the bone in a firm grip with both hands he broke it in such a manner so that it could leave a narrower end, narrow enough to fit into the keyhole of the cell on the other side.

Quietly going on with the task of trying to wedge the lock open with the bone for a good ten minutes, he heard a sleepy voice behind him.

"I thought you were going to _wait_ for the opportune moment…not go _after_ it."

So the girl had awoken apparently. "Circumstances..." he said as he still tried to get the bone to unlock the cell, "…have changed."

The girl mumbled something under her breath that he didn't quite understand. "What was that, luv?"

"Nothing. Uh, my back hurts like a bitch," she said quietly as he continued to man-handled the bone in the lock. "Yo, if you keep doing that I think you're going to end up breaking that thing instead of actually freeing us."

He looked at the girl sharply silently daring her to say anymore on the subject. She simply raised her hands in surrender, "I was just saying."

"It never fails to amaze me how little use a woman's mouth has unless she's using it in non-vocational _tasks_," he said sarcastically aiming to shut her up.

"Yeah, jackass not like your mouth has anymore use than mine since the only thing that comes out of it is bullshit, figuratively and by the smell of it, literally too."

"Thank you darling, I'll remember that once I free meself from this _stimulating_ environment – and I leave you in here all to your ownsies."

This time he had really expected her to keep her mouth shut – most people felt that silence was the better path when they had their fortunes threatened. It seemed to work oppositely with this girl though.

"Then fucking leave me in here if you like. Don't talk to me like you're doing me any favors – you don't owe me jackshit so by all rights just leave my sorry loud-mouth ass here if you want. You can let your own conscience decide what lets you sleep at night or not."

"Trust me love, I've done more things of a questionable nature and I've still managed to get me some shut-eye quite perfectly."

"Oh I don't doubt that for a second, my man. But you just keep on messing with the lock and we'll see who ends up being correct about this one. Trust me, I think I know _a little_ bit more than you do on this."

"Then perhaps you could use that ever so luminous mind knowledge of yours to get us out of here," said Jack with narrowed eyes, a false smile, and a cocked head in mocking.

"We can't 'oh-brilliant-one.' Don't you think that if I could I would have tried to get myself out of here already?"

"Then perhaps it's best ye be holding your tongue. 'S seems there's not much use for it under the current circumstances." Once again the Captain went make to moving the bone inside the lock opening.

"Oh my god, how stupid are you? You're going to fucking break that shit inside the opening and then we'll be even more screwed – is that what you want?"

Flaring his nostrils in irritation, Captain Jack Sparrow spoke in an almost deadly calm tone, "Alright, that's about it luv. If I hear one more word come out of your mouth, I'll make sure you don't wake up for the rest of the afternoon, savvy?"

Letting out a huge sigh of exasperation, the girl started out slowly, ". Me. There is only one way we can get out of here _without_ the use of a key and that would require some sort of pulley or lever or basically anything providing mechanical advantage to loosen the hinges. That is unless ya wanna play Superman and try pullin' up the bars yourself."

Jack noticed the slight change in her accent and this was because, unknowingly to him, whenever Iris began to get _really_ irritated a slight Brooklyn accent would start making its way through in her speech, replacing –er's with –a's and –ing's with simple –in's. Some people called it the anger speech flaw, she called it her NYC bitch attitude.

But aside from her accent, her explanation of getting out of the cell did not go overlooked. In all honesty, it was rather difficult for any man to ignore it, _especially_ when it was coming from a woman. The feminine creature was expected to know the difference between knitting, crocheting, and embroidering but most certainly _not_ on anything related to blacksmithing or mechanics. That was just…_unheard_ of.

"Is that so, _luv_? Well, you'll have to forgive me seeing how I'm sure I've escaped from more prisons than you have." The captain went back to sticking the bone into the lock's opening and moving it around.

Quickened footsteps could then be heard coming their way and the busy pirate hastily made himself _unbusy_, throwing himself onto the prison floor pretending to look unconcerned at his dirty finger nails.

Iris snorted and quietly snarled, "_Fucking hypocrite_." It earned her a quick angry glare from the pirate who was then interrupted by the unexpected visitor.

"You. Sparrow!" The young man demanded authoritatively.

He was rather young, Iris made out. In her time, she would have listed him under 'college kid' maybe a little over his twenties but definitely no older than thirty. His facial hair gave him a more mature look but the youthfulness in his face could not be missed. The lighting made it difficult for Iris to really judge his appearance better beyond the basics – he had dark hair and dark eyes.

Iris had never seen him before but apparently Jack knew him.

"Aye," Her cell responded back loudly.

"You're familiar with that ship? The _Black Pearl_?"

"I've heard of it." Jack's answer was slightly slurred looking up at the ceiling apathetically.

"Where does it make berth?" The young man asked without any effort of concealing the desperation in his tone.

Iris flicked her eyes back and forth as she heard the strange dialogue between them. She wasn't stupid and she knew that her cellmate was playing dumb because he obviously knew his fair share about this ship if his awed tone gave anything for her to judge by, the night before.

The captain pushed himself forward and asked with feigned surprise, "_Where does it make berth?_ Have you not heard the stories?"

The young man looked at him curiously but Jack continued his story with pompous eloquence. "Captain Barbossa and his crew of miscreants sail from the lsla de Muerta."

Her cellmate widened and narrowed his eyes to make the telling of the information more effective while using his finger for emphasis. "It's an island that cannot be found, _except_ by those who already know where it is."

There was a determined expression that hardened the youth's features when he concentrated on this piece and he stiffly said, "The ship's real, therefore its anchorage must be a real place. Where is it?"

Faking disinterest, the captain and he once again looked at his fingernails in unconcern, trying to give off an air of casualty. "Why ask me?"

"Because you're a pirate."

"And you want to turn pirate yourself. Is that it?"

"_Never!_" The younger man hissed venomously clutching the bars of the cell with apparent distaste for the pirate and the mere mentioning of becoming one. He hesitated for a few moments, reluctant to say the next words, "They took Miss Swann."

Almost as if he were waiting for that, Jack shot up to a sitting position and immediately retorted, "Oh, so it is that you've found a girl!"

Iris had stood out of the conversation thus long and she could tell that some part of her cellmate was definitely toying with the young man, but the guy seemed too absorbed by his worry for the girl he mentioned to really notice. Her cellmate grinned that shiny golden grin that seemed to reflect the obvious amusement he was getting out of this. One part of her didn't understand how he could be bargaining things at a time like this when he should have been barking with gratitude that _someone_ wanted to get him out. Hell, she sure wanted to get out of the cage.

But Jack continued on and with that look of self-satisfaction on his face he nodded and said, "I see! Well, if yer intending to brave all, hasten to her rescue, and so _win_ fair lady's heart…You'll have to do it alone, mate. I see no profit in it for me."

The boy looked downright determined now, and he immediately sputtered out, "I can get you out of here."

At hearing those words, the air seemed to have buzzed into to Iris's ears and she let go a breath of relief that she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"How's that?" Jack countered, gesturing to where the dog had fled, "The key's run off."

Iris nearly swooned with the hope that filled her when she heard the young man's next words. "I helped build these cells. These are half-pin barrel hinges. With the right leverage—"

Here, Jack turned his head to give her an intense look after hearing the word '_leverage_' from the guy but quickly focused his attention at the younger man again who was now using some wooden apparatus to haul up the cell with.

"—And the proper application of strength, the door will lift free."

Jack stood there a moment with his mouth slightly open, searching for the right words. After a pause of silence he eventually settled for, "What's your name?"

There something very tough, Iris noticed, in the way the 'college kid' had responded – slightly defensive. "Will Turner" he said very sure of himself.

Rather too quickly, Jack sprung up straighter and said, "That would be short for _William_ I imagine? Good strong name…No doubt named after yer father, eh?"

"…Yes," answered the young man known as Will Turner, he eyed the pirate suspiciously.

Likewise, so did Iris. There was something strange about Jack's all too accurate conclusions about the kid. Of all the names in the world how the hell did he figure the kid was named after his father? But even more so, Jack seemed to be masticating that piece of information in his mind because he all too quickly answered.

"Well, Mr. Turner, I've changed me mind. You spring me from this cell and I swear on pain of death I shall take you to the _Black Pearl_ and your bonny lass." Sticking out his hand Jack to 'seal-the-deal,' he grinned out, "Do we have an accord?"

The brunette who had been observing took note of the hesitation of the young man but who eventually relented and took the pirate's hand.

"Agreed," Will Turner said shaking hands quickly.

Jack Sparrow grinned lively, "Agreed, now get me out."

For the first time since the conversation between Jack and the Turner boy, Iris laughed and felt a familiar wetness go down her cheeks. She was going to be let free…well, if he was going to destroy the door, she was getting a freebie too along with Jack, right?

Precisely as Iris had stated to Jack before, the young man lifted the door out by pressing onto the wooden apparatus. The captain, too busy with the rush of getting out, barely took note of her.

"Hurry," the young man rushed, "Someone might have heard that."

"Not without my effects!"

It seemed that only just then the 'college kid' realized she was there too. He looked at her with a confused look and asked the Captain who was making his way to his things – "Is she with you?"

Poking his head from outside the room where the militia withheld prisoner's things, the captain looked at Will and then at her. He furrowed his eyebrows but before he could say anything, Iris spoke up.

"Please, I have nowhere to go. In all honesty, I don't even know where I am. Look, I promise…," Iris began as she turned to look at the younger man straight in the eye. She licked her cracked lips and continued, "…I promise I won't cause any trouble but just…please, please don't leave me here – alone."

The young man considered her for a moment and then finally nodded his head in permission. Suddenly, noise came from the room Jack was in a sound of clattering along with muttered curses.

"Bloody thing won't come off!" He garbled as he struggled against a white plastic bag.

Iris's eyes widened and immediately ran towards the room, saying, "That's mine! You're going to rip it!"

"Well get the bugger off me!"

"Stop kicking it! You're going to break all my stuff!"

Finally releasing the white bag from his foot Iris noticed her bag pack along with her iPod on the side within the room as well. Quickly gathering her things she followed both Will Turner and Jack Sparrow up the stairway of Fort Charles and through the door of a new beginning.

Hope you enjoyed that. I know it's slightly short but I'm already working on the next Chapter which will definitely be much longer and I hope to put up sooner. Have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to review XD.


	10. So, Like Where's the Bathroom Again?

**Chapter 10: So, Like Where's the Bathroom Again?**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Author's Note:**_ _God, I know – hate me. HATE ME. I've been so out of it and although I've been caught up in the heat of the summer braindeadness there is absolutely no excuse as to why I've not updated this more often. But I'm working on it! Promise to make the next chapter a MUCH shorter wait._

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**So, Like Where's the Bathroom Again?**

_2008_, _New York City_

Frances 'Frankie' Smithard was not a superstitious girl. In most cases she was simply indifferent to spirituality - always having been a carefree person; things like religion were _non sequitur _in her life. However, Frankie did have some sort of basic values or _morals_, so to speak, she just didn't really emphasize them very much in her life.

Her family was a well-to-do sort of bunch with a mosaic background of cultural leadership in England. She had been pampered since birth and always got what she wanted. However, unlike her family, Frankie was a bit of a rebel and enjoyed straying from her family 'crème de la crème' beliefs. More on impulse than on true conviction, Frankie enjoyed going to political demos, protests, rallies - overall 'mingling' with the working and middle-classes of society.

But then she met Iris Uriquizá - calm, cynical, quiet but most of all politically aggressive. Eccentric at heart, Frankie was immediately drawn to the collected girl whose words were beautiful in structure and powerful in content, but most of all, Frankie felt drawn to the simmering leader and quiet revolutionist that hid beneath the often tired and frustrated girl.

Iris hardly spoke at times and Frankie believed that this must be an attribute of constantly observing, _seeing_. Because to Frankie, Iris always seemed to see beyond what others did when it came to understanding why things were the why they were. Admiring her analytical mind, the British girl was always left in awe by the American born New Yorker.

Unlike most people she knew, Iris always seemed to say things that needed to be said: Things that were often either difficult to vocalize or a little too _bold_ in terms of upsetting the _status quo_.

Conclusively, Frankie felt she had found a counter-part - someone who perhaps was not as extroverted as she was but whose mind definitely was. In all honesty, there were times Frankie feared her attraction to Iris because she didn't know what to make of it. There was affection for her - a huge amount. But was it romantic? She feared the answer to that. She loved Iris and often argued it to be platonic.

Frankie, unlike Iris, was slightly promiscuous but like Iris she had never really had a relationship. Her hormonal uprisings were not constant and they would never deviate from the opposite sex. But with Iris...it was strange because she didn't think she felt any physical attraction but there was something that made her grow jealous and possessive when Iris preferred to hang out with her other friends instead of her.

And she knew Iris was susceptive, she had already stated that the girl was keen, but not once did she ever mention her suspiciousness to Frankie. They didn't talk about it. It wasn't precisely taboo but neither really knew what it was. Frankie thought of it as comradeship on many occasions, and perhaps it was. Maybe it was just this overwhelming amount of affection that went beyond familial ties. But it had been there since almost the very beginning of their friendship, like an attraction that wasn't the one that made you want to jump into bed with them but the sort of attraction that made you want to run loose and test the limits of freedom.

At least that's what it was like for Frankie Smithard.

Because Iris spoke of revolution like a poetic rollercoaster, it was difficult to describe except that when she sat down to listen to the girl her soul and heart would have, what she called, political orgasms. Her heart pounded, her mouth lifted in happiness, and her body trembled with excitement. What if these ideas could manifest into reality? What if things could change? They would have it the way youth would: radical, impulsive, and completely climatic.

Beautiful and overwhelming, Frankie often called their chats 'trips' because they were often as vivid as any LCD trip could be.

And now Iris Uriquizá, the epiphany of her friendship, was missing.

No body to speak of - dead or alive. The night Frankie had rashly destroyed their friendship with her selfish eccentricities; Iris had rushed out of the apartment in anger and distress.

And of course so late at night in the city, anyone could be in danger especially in such a vulnerable state. So when, Iris's mom called her the following night crying on the phone asking where her daughter was, Frankie was surprised to hear that Iris was not missing from school because she was upset but because she had been missing since that morning and that she had in fact made it home that night. There was something dreadful that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach after that.

Frankie was not a superstitious girl.

The rituals she had performed were meant to scare, to psychologically haunt - a mere joke on the mind, even if it was a cruel one. This was not the first time the Briton had been carried away in what she considered 'playfulness.' And there had been many times that Iris would give her the cold shoulder on account of her rash behavior which seemed to have little boundaries. Even Frankie scared herself at times with her own instability.

But this time it was different. Frankie knew she had gone to an extreme of betrayal and disrespect for her best-friend's trust. She knew that Iris would never forgive her and that more than likely their friendship was over, but that was at least tolerable.

The overwhelming guilt was not. So like a fatal seed of doubt, her mind began to grow with venomous uncertainties: Did Iris runaway? Did she kill herself? ...Did the ritual _work_?

Could the ritual have worked? But even then, she didn't understand what that meant! Stupidly she had gone and read silly incantations, forced down a goblet of strong caffeinated coffee down her friends throat and then didn't think anything about what _could_ happen if such things did work.

What happened when you mixed Satanism with Witchcraft? They were not one in the same like so many people believed. While one firmly planted the beliefs against the work of Christianity and it's god, the other was of a belief in the polarity of deities - if any, immanence, nature and of course the general belief in magic.

So what had she done? Frankie thought. Well, she had invoked _Niksa_, a water deity and the ruler of its element. That had been the Wiccan portion of the session but the other ritual...

That had been the part that was supposed to simply mess around with Iris. It was an experiment - you know the whole placebo theory that people often could psychologically make themselves feel better or worse without anything really having any physiological effects. Yet there was no mistake in what Frankie had seen.

The second part of the session, the readings of the _Demonic Bible_, well those invoked several...'demons' and other demonic deities she didn't even remember. Except one - _Leviathan_. Now that should not have really stuck out except she remembered it was a water demon.

Could she have started something...? The image of her friend lying in the water twitching in a seizure that led to change in skin and to all those tattoos...there was something about all this that went beyond mere cult frenzy and she had invoked it.

All that was left for the Brit was to contemplate and wonder and hope - hope that this was all pretend, that Iris had a hissy fit and had left to ventilate for a while but on the inside the growing dread told her otherwise.

Frankie stood in front of her bathroom mirror. The girl that looked back held a hollow look of exhaustion - those endless nights of guilt and preoccupation for her friend. She gripped a straw colored strand of hair and looked at it through the mirror.

Her hands trembled as they made themselves to a bottle of peroxide and black-burgundy dye. With one look of her blond hair she reminded herself of the self-hatred she had and what she did.

She needed a change and quick. With angry tears pooling in her eyes she began to mix the solutions in her hair - a disturbing swirl of red and white mixing like blood and milk.

Perhaps ten minutes had passed, perhaps an hour - her hands were stained and the bath tub ready. Ripping the clothes from her body she felt the cold, a harsh lover on her skin, and made her way to the tub. Sitting with shoulders slumped and trembling lips she sunk her head into the water on instinct - a gut feeling that told her it would all be alright this way.

Without any intention of pulling her head out soon, Frances Smithard finally realized that her biggest mistake was that she had dug up the devil and now didn't know how to send it back home.

_1720, Port Royal, Jamaica_

"Are we going to steal a ship..._That_ ship?"

"_Commandeer_ – we are going to commandeer that ship. Nautical term."

Iris crossed her arms in amusement. It was obvious that between William and Jack there was the conflicting ingenuity of the young man and the mischief slyness of the older pirate. And although Jack's demeanor was somewhat uncanny, there was something undeniably charismatic about it – not to mention fitting.

"What a diplomatic way to put it," she sassed.

Jack ignored her as he watched out for the red-coats. This was the opportune moment he was waiting for – the opportune moment he had waited for, for the past ten years. He would finally get his ship back…and settle things between his mutineering ex-first mate, Hector Barbossa.

Turning to look at Will he started, "One question about your business boy, or there's no use going." He narrowed his eyes cynically, "This _girl_, how far are you willing to go to save _her_?"

"I'd die for her!"

"Oh, good. No worries, then." The pirate then looked back to focus his attention on the soldiers when suddenly he turned around again, "Iris, same question."

She looked at him with knotted eyebrows of incredulity. "I don't have anywhere else to _go_ and I _obviously _can't stay here." Was he dense or something? Well apparently not, figured Iris. He was just drunk.

"Wonderful— cargo."

Iris's mouth dropped open – what a jerk.

The girl was livid. She wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and that she hoped he got caught stealing the ship so he'd get sent back to the fort and hopefully have his balls chopped off or _something_ to that effect. What a douchebag – if it weren't for the fact that she really needed to get her ass off the island…she wouldn't have kept her mouth shut.

"Asshole," she muttered softly under her breath. Will, who looked like he might have heard her remark, smiled at her sympathetically.

"Now follow me and _try_ not to do anything stupid," ordered Jack looking at the both of them but more at Iris. She raised a brow in response.

Not saying anything further Jack moved away from underneath bridge they had been hiding at. Both her and Will followed immediately although she was still somewhat confused when they all went under a flipped-over boat…

"Uh, I'm no genius…but I think you've got this boat thing a bit wrong," observed Iris sarcastically.

"Well you're right on that one darlin', you certainly are no mastermind, _clearly_. But not to worry, luv – you just trust dear ol' Jack."

"That's the part I'm worried about," She whispered making Will snicker a laugh and Jack glare at her.

"Is there a problem, Miss Iris?" asked the latter provokingly. There was no doubt in the captain's mind that this girl wasn't going to "come quietly" as they put it. From the looks of it already, she was going to be a thorn on his side…how big, he wasn't sure.

"Oh no, definitely, not at all. Like you said I'm _clearly_ not the 'mastermind' here so don't bother listening to the trash that spurs out of my mouth," dictated the girl with an attitude that was unlike anything anyone of that century may have heard – not even the whores and boy did they have attitude problems of their own.

The pirate looked at her taken a back. "I have a feelin' you're not being honest with me, luv."

"Whatever gave you _that_ idea?" Iris retorted faking her innocence and then rolling her eyes.

Hunching that a fight could very well emerge, Will interrupted Jack who already held his mouth open to spit back in argument.

"Jack, how are we going to get to the _Interceptor_?"

The pirate looked at him in bewilderment until suddenly his expression turned to one of satisfaction. In answering Will, Jack replied looking at Iris, "Now _that_, dear William, is an _excellent_ question! A _brilliant_ question!"

The girl let out a frustrated sigh, "You've _got_ to be kidding me." She really couldn't believe he was being such a complete asshole – with shit and all.

Ignoring Jack's outburst, Will continued. "If we row this boat to the ship everyone will notice."

_'No shit, Sherlock,'_ she felt like saying but thought better not to considering he was the only one who seemed to be nicer – if not at least decent to her.

"We're not going to board the _Interceptor_, we're going to board the _Dauntless_…just…trust me. When I say 'go' we're going to slide the boat forward until we reach the shore. Understand?"

Giving Jack a look of hesitance, he said yes and so did Iris although she still wasn't too sure what he was planning on pulling off.

"Let's just hope this works out better than your plan to get out of the cell," muttered Iris smartly which Jack only gave a dirty look in response.

So forward they slid towards the sea until they eventually found themselves walking on the ocean floor with a boat as their only source of oxygen.

"This is either brilliance or madness," said William after realizing just how they were going to get to the ship.

"It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide," replied Jack earnestly.

On any other day, Iris may have commented on the incredibly heuristic and intelligence behind such a creative idea, because as a scholar and a closet nerd, she truly appreciated those sorts of demonstrations of brains – instead of simple bragging. But at the moment she was angry at being treated as a passenger of 'low priority' in the little group. And perhaps she was even more angry seeing how the pirate captain was the one having the upper hand of her circumstances.

"Well since it's his idea, I guess you can scratch off the brilliance," she chimed in out of a pure irritated sentiment.

"I don't believe yer in the position to be insulting the captain of this crew. _Especially_ when I can very well refuse to take you on board."

"What the hell are you talking about?" snapped Iris. "We're three freakin' people – how is that even a crew? And it's not even your ship, so you can't decide who goes on or off."

Now, Jack loved women. Really, he did. But this girl was getting on his nerves and although his shot was meant for another, he very well had the sudden urge to waste it inside that annoying little brain of hers. So, removing a hand from the boat, all of a sudden Iris had an 18th Century pirate pistol shoved in her face. Almost instantly, Will took out his sword.

Scared shitless but more heated than scared, the 21st century teen spoke fearlessly, "You're a shitty captain, but then again you don't need me to tell you that. I'm sure you've realized that already considering your _own _circumstances."

"Ah, that may be luv, but I am captain nonetheless," stated Jack.

"Yeah," she snorted in a wiseass manner. "With, like, the leadership skills of a five year old. You can shoot me right now if you want, but you do realize that having a dead body floating around the ship you plan on taking hostage is probably not the smartest idea of your delinquent career." Cheekily she added, "That is unless getting caught is also part of your plan."

Seeing that Jack was ready to pull back the trigger, Will brought his sword to the scallywag's neck in quick response. "Put the gun down, Jack or I'll slit your throat where you stand."

Looking down at the blade at his throat and then at Iris, Jack put the gun down. Threateningly he warned, "One word from your mouth and you better swim yerself back to shore, savvy?"

Will glanced at her face to see her response but saw no real expression. She had put her gaze down and continued carrying the boat the best she could.

Her arms and wrists were hurting – partly from the actually carrying of the boat and partly because of the weight of her backpack and the plastic bag she had to carry also. But most of all she felt like the soft whisperings in her mind were taking a strange toll on her body. The contact with the water made her weak although it did not make her as fragile like the morning of her 'time-travel.' Then there was also the small detail that she couldn't ignore – she really _really_ needed to use the bathroom – who wouldn't after nearly a full three days without pissing or taking a dump? Not that she had much to excrete considering her lack of nutrition which was of course another reason for her current feebleness.

Will noticing her exhaustion, whispered softly to her, "Are you tired?"

Iris, smiling genuinely for the first time in a while, shook her head negatively even though she was obviously very tired. She mouthed a silent 'Thank you' to him.

The young man smiled charmingly at her – a smile that made Iris look want to look at him a little longer. It was then that she decided that he was really quite good-looking…in a boyish manner…she supposed. But his good-nature and amiability was what won her over. It was also what made him more attractive in her eyes.

The rest of the walk was in silence until they finally reached the ship's anchorage. The three of them finally let go of the boat and climbed up the anchor to the ships tail while holding their breath all the way through.

Will was the only one kind enough to help her up in climbing the ship. Jack, preoccupied with the actual 'steal' tip-toed towards the royal navy. With that self-sufficed tone that already seemed familiar to her, he announced, "Everyone stay calm! We are taking over the ship."

That may have been a pretty damn good entrance, thought Iris. Had it not been for that _slight_ screw up, she may not have felt as stupid as she already did in stealing a ship when the ratio was somewhere between a 3 to15. But she couldn't help wanting to completely disappear from pure embarrassment.

"Aye, avast!"

And although Will was really a sweet guy helping her out and all…but when it came to making their entrance he really "screwed" it up – for lack of a better word.

The best part though, was getting to see Jack's face of shame when the entire naval crew was laughing their ass off at them. Oh boy, what a crew they were!

"This ship cannot be crewed by two men. You'll never make it out of the bay…" And that voice was familiar to Iris, disgustingly familiar. She pushed herself through both men and placed herself in front.

And she was right, it was the filthy pig – Gillette. He stared at her with wide eyes of shock. "You! How did yo—"

Iris punched him square in the mouth before he even managed to finish his sentence. "That was for trying to rape me you fucking coward! Why don't you try to talk your way out of this one you son of a bitch!"

She felt herself being pulled back by both Will and Jack. The pirate grinned at the bewildered Gillette who now held his bruised jaw. Bringing his gun to the military man's head he smirked, "Son, we don't need more than us three because…I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. _Savvy_?"

To Iris the rest went in a blur, there were sailors and soldiers running around although most of them had fallen off the ship by now. The smarter ones grabbed onto the row boats – Gillette being the first one to run his ass out of there.

"So now what?" Iris asked Will who had just finished pushing off some sailors off the ship.

"I'm not quite sure…where's Jack?"

"Bugger, bugger!" Screamed none other than said person.

"Speak of the devil," sighed Iris. She looked at the captain, "What's he doing to the steering wheel?"

Will squinted, "Looks like he's doing something with the rudder." He walked towards Jack leaving Iris to ask herself out loud, "Rudder? What the hell is that?"

Iris made her way to both men who looked like they were trying to break something. She squinted and blinked a few times. After three days of wearing contacts she had completely forgotten about them and now they were beginning to dry her eyes.

"Fuck, this is not the time for my fucking contacts to decide to pop out of my freakin' eyeballs!" she cursed while blinking repetitively. Luckily, they decided to conform to simply sticking on her eyeballs because she could clearly see the _Interceptor_ make way towards the very ship they were on.

It was in that moment that Jack's plan seemed to click in her head – he was using the _Dauntless_ 'hijacking' as a distraction so they could gain access to the ship of their objective. Looking at Jack's absurd pulling of the so-called 'rudder,' she thought to herself, _'Who would've thought? Seems like the asshole turned out to be a smartass after all.'_ Not to mention the fact that she had always thought people of the 18th Century were just plain stupid.

"Oye, luv, you comin' on the ship or are you going to just stand there?" shouted Jack who was preparing ropes to swing over onto the other boat. Iris ran quickly to both men and began to help. She could hear the navy officers making their way through the ship.

The pirate captain made gestures for them to swing over quietly and so Will offered to swing her over with him. Not wanting to take any risks of falling on her ass or not being able to get onto the next ship, she accepted.

It really was too easy, thought Iris as she saw how completely abandoned the royal navy had left the _Interceptor_. Jack held a self-satisfied look on his face as he began to cut off the ropes attached from one ship to another. The ship began to move off its own accord breaking off the connecting plank and catching the attention of the men on the _Dauntless_. And what seemed like a few seconds, the ship began to sail away further and further.

"Wow," was all Iris could say as she watched the ocean waves crash on the wooden outer sides. The gunshots from the other ship snapped her out of her trance and made her duck down to the floor to avoid any bullets. At the moment, she felt she was in one of those movies like _The Mummy_ when the shooting scene was funny to everyone watching except this time she wasn't feeling the humor in it.

She heard the mocking tone in Jack's voice as he yelled out, "Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make way. We'd have had a hard time of it by ourselves!"

From a distance the teen could see the navy men becoming smaller and looking through their outdated telescopes that were supposed to have the same function binoculars would…except they sort of didn't do the trick in seeing all that far. Finally dawning on her, Iris spaced out still sort of in shock from what they had just done – and managing to survive.

"I can't believe we just did that" she said truly in astonishment of their actions. "The only thing illegal I ever did back home was download music off Lime Wire…"

The last part was her own rambling that wasn't really meant for anyone else to hear but neither Jack nor Will paid attention seeing how she was still crouched down with her hands on her head for protection and they still looking back at how the Royal Navy was faring.

"What are you doing down there, lass?" Jack asked finally noticing her position and eyeing her strangely.

"Uh…well they were shooting, what was I supposed to do? Let myself get shot?"

"Well your safe now, as it were. Why don't you make yourself useful and see if there's any supplies down in the foc'sle. You can then check if the rigging on the masts are good enough for our sailin'."

Iris looked at him with shifty eyes, he was kidding right? "You do realize that _that_ just went over my head?"

She added her arm going over her head for emphasis, "Woosh – dude, you could have said that in Chinese and it would have been the same thing. What the hell is a "foxisle"? Or a rigging or a mast?"

The pirate looked at her like she was insane. Iris rolled her eyes, "Yeah, because that's what I do with my free time _Captain_, I memorize parts of obsolete ships for fun."

"Looks, like you really are cargo then, luv," Jack said looking at her with a funny expression and slight widening of his eyes. He then creased his brows and added, "How is this ship obsolete? It's no more than a near two years of age."

Iris pretending she didn't hear the last question said, "Well, it's not like I'm stupid – contrary to what _you_ may believe. If you teach me the parts of a ship, I'm bound to learn them. I mean if _you_ can, how hard can it possibly be?" Realizing what she had just said, Iris pursed her lips and quickly said, "I-I didn't mean it that way…"

Smiling at her falsely, the pirate captain stood back as he looked towards the horizon and yelled, "William!"

"I'm right here, Jack," said Will who neither Iris nor Jack had really noticed standing there.

"Oh, good. If you'd do me the greatest favor of taking the lass and," he swirled his fingers in the air, "show her around, teach her a few things. I would be very much in your debt."

Will Turner smiled at her with that beautiful that made her feel funny when she looked at him and suddenly very much self-conscience about her current lack of hygiene. "Come on Miss…?"

"Iris," she said smiling back, forgetting about the pirate captain in front of them. "Just call me Iris."

He gestured with his arm 'after you' and led her to the different quarters of the ship and pointed out the different parts of the ship. Neither of them noticed the pirate who looked at the two observantly as they went down to the forecastle.

"…And this is the forecastle," said Will who had showed her the different things on the deck and the Quarterdeck.

"So, this is what Jack was trying to tell me to go check out," she said running her hands on the smooth wood of the panel walls. Finally feeling a strange pull from what she already knew was her far-too-long ignored bladder she asked Will, "Uh…please tell me that this ship has a bathroom."

"Pardon," he asked looking at her strangely. "Bathroom?...I don't think there is anywhere you can bathe…unfortunately. Sailors don't really bathe until they reach port at one point or another."

Although that wasn't what she was really asking, she couldn't help but feel both disheartened and disgusted by the fact that she wouldn't be taking a bath anytime soon. "No, no – I, that's not what I really meant by 'bathroom' I meant like…you know a restroom...?" She said trying to make him understand better but not really getting a reaction from him. "Um…I don't know what you guys call it out here, the powder room?...or maybe a latrine?"

"Oh," said Will finally falling into understanding about what Iris meant. "Yes, well if you go far down to the right, the door there…that's where it should be."

"Thank you so much!" she said expressively grateful and not really caring that Will was looking awkward.

He said quietly, "I-I'll just wait for you out here."

"Sure, thanks!" Iris said running to the door with an all of a sudden incredible need. She opened the door and was struck at how decent the 'latrine' was. She always thought the bathrooms of the 'old days' would be disgusting, examples of their ignorance on the definition of sanitary…

But she had spoken too soon because she then realized a very important detail – there was no toilet paper.

Groaning softly, Iris bent over and opened her Frankie's plastic bag, crossing her fingers that there would be toilet paper, a tissue, or even a napkin.

Picking up a roll of _Bounty_, she sighed and figured it would have to do. After all, beggars couldn't be choosers…and a _Bounty_ rash-wiped ass was better than a no-wipe dirty ass.

Read and Review folks! Tell me what you think so far and if it's being realistic enough! Love you guys!


	11. When Men Take Initiative

**Chapter 11: When Men Take Initiative**

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean

_**Author's Note:**_ _That was fast, right? Well, I'd like to thank all those who reviewed! I'm here to serve you the only way I know how, and I'm glad to know that I've been doing my job by giving credibility to this story. Enjoy this chappie!_

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**When Men Take Initiative**

_1720, Caribbean Sea_

The dirty brunette laughed as she took a bite of the peach that seemed to taste better than heaven itself. The juices so sweet of nectar were both delicious from the intense hunger she felt…and from the fact that not a single pesticide was ever added. After a near three days of starvation, anything – even stale bread – would have been mouth-watering. Iris Uriquizá grinned with happiness and not only because the fruit was good.

"That's pretty funny, I can't believe she actually tried to fight you with a real sword – that's freakin' hilarious!" Iris chuckled as she heard the boy she came to know as Will Turner began to tell her a childhood story of his.

They were now in the forecastle of the ship, the quarters reserved for the crew members, and all though it was a little dark down there, it was a lot cooler and of course, there was food. Iris feeling completely relieved of her bladder problem, ended up engaging Will in conversation. It first started with small talk and then gradually progressed to telling stories. He was in the middle of his.

"Yes, well, we were young and although it was inappropriate, I suppose it's the lack of propriety that make most children behave so recklessly," he said smiling but with all seriousness.

Iris, who was about to take another bite, stopped short, "You're joking right? You were kids for god sakes! How is that at _all_ inappropriate?"

"Children disregard rules of society," he answered.

"They disregard malice, you mean. Children don't follow society's rules because they do things out of pure innocence – it's adults who make these rules to control their own perverseness."

It was a difficult to accept the form of thinking of this century, decided Iris. Of course it was easy for her to accept that girls and boys had a right to play together, to study together, and to work together. The 18th Century however held so many regulations against basic freedom and all because of the dirty minds of men. How else could anyone explain why it was _men_ who invented manual guides of etiquette for _women_. Rationalizing things through the eyes of males was an easier form for women to accept and conform to the restrictions men placed on them. Unfortunately, Iris wasn't going to conform even if she was stuck in this retrograde time period – she had the same rights like any man and she wasn't going to be convinced otherwise.

Will looked at the muddled girl unconvinced, "But she was a girl and I a bo—"

"You were children! Gender doesn't matter when you're that young. So what if girls aren't supposed to play with boys? It's inconceivable that a child could be thinking of _anything_ but horseplay at that age. _Nothing_ else."

"Perhaps," he uttered quietly looking down in what seemed something between guilt and embarrassment. "But that didn't stop me from falling in love with her."

For Will Turner it was difficult to converse of these things – especially about his feelings on a certain governor's daughter. Yet, looking at Iris, he realized that although crude and somewhat unrefined, she was easy to open up to.

Leaning close to Will, Iris asked with curiosity, "Is this girl…is she the one you're going to find?"

"Yes," he whispered almost inaudibly. "She was kidnapped by a crew of scoundrels and I don't care what bizarre ghost stories are behind them, because I will save Elizabeth if it's the only thing worthy I do for her."

Looking at him with knotted brows she dug further, "Do you even know why they might have taken her or something?"

Will looked at her for a second – it was the first time he had even bothered to think as to _why_ they might have wanted to take Elizabeth. "I assume it's because she's the governor's daughter."

Nodding her head Iris stated, "So they're holding her for ransom. "

"I suppose…" responded Will. A concentrated look came over his facial expression and with a glance he brought up his gaze to Iris and asked, "Is it true that you're a spy?"

Rolling her eyes for the millionth time she had been sucked into this time-era, Iris sighed in frustration, "Not you _too_. God, no – I'm not a spy for the Spanish, I'm not planning on overthrowing British rule from their colonies or steal their resources – although, in all honesty, that wouldn't be at all a bad idea." She bit into the peach and chewed the soft tasty fruit while waiting for Will to say something back.

"Is it true what you said on the _Dauntless_ about Lieutenant Gillette…?"He questioned further.

"_Yeah_, that motherfucker," said Iris as Will winced at her language, "tried to rape me…which is probably why he accused me of being a spy, because he couldn't get what he wanted." Growling in anger she added, "I swear to god, that if I ever get the chance to have that fucker one-on-one again, I'll castrate him in the most painful way possible."

Will cringed at her words which clearly pained his male sensibilities. He looked at her to say something in response when he noticed she was dressed rather…uniquely, aside from being filthy. But that wasn't the only thing that didn't seem to stand out. Like Jack, Will too noticed her way of speaking that seemed so…rushed; not to mention vulgar at moments. But at the same time, she appeared to be bright even when he barely knew her.

"Where are you from?" asked he asked directly to the point.

"I'm from New York," answered Iris honestly. _'Just not from your century…'_

Suddenly interested Will leaned even closer as if to absorb the information better, "Is that why you speak so differently?"

Making a face Iris said, "You mean with an accent? Doesn't everyone from a different region or province speak differently? I mean even in England, people from London must talk differently from those who live in…I don't know, Cornwall."

"Yes," He began trying to express himself accurately. "But…yours is…very _different_."

She laughed genuinely, "I must sound like a stupid boorish American with my non-British accent. Don't I?"

"No," he laughed along. "I said you sounded different – that's all."

Iris laughed and putting her hands behind her head she was reminded of her body odor. As she stretched her arms out, she got a whiff of her underarms, "Ugh, I really need a bath – _badly_. I smell like shit...literally. I really hope that wherever we're off to, they'll have somewhere I can take a bath. Although…"

The young man looked at her as Iris zoned out into her mind, "Iris…?"

Looking at him as if something finally had dawned on her she said, "I don't have money…I don't even know _what_ money I'm supposed to use…" This was sort of true because even though she was carrying about 50 with her, dollars were the equivalent of 18th century Monopoly game board money. Dollars didn't even exist yet – hell, the Alexander Hamilton on her 50 dollar bill probably wasn't even born yet. Snorting she said, "Well I guess there goes my bathing fantasies."

Tilting his head in interest he asked, "You don't use the British pound in the northern colonies?"

Iris opened her mouth to respond and preyed a good answer would pop-out because she was having one of those shifty-eye moments, "Well, yeah we do but…uh…those guys in the fort kinda stole it I guess." Hoping he would buy her fabricated excuse, she looked at her hands in sudden interest.

Will, figuring that she didn't seem to be someone who would lie about something so insignificant, he offered his own money to pay her a possible bath.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly. That would just be shameless for me to accept something like that from you," Iris said in all gravity. "Besides, I like to make my own money, otherwise I feel like whatever I purchased wasn't mine to do so."

"That's a strange concept for a woman to have…"commented Will, "I thought all women enjoyed spending other people's money – especially men's."

"Ha, that's something I'm not going to argue because I think a good majority of women do in fact enjoy spending a man's money, but I couldn't possibly be content if I had to depend on a man to give me permission to use his money and buy things," squirmed Iris. "Eh, I think I'd rather end up poor and lonely than rich and having to tolerate a man's financial dominion."

But even with Iris's refusal Will insisted on her taking some of his money. Pulling out a small bag that seemed to be his savings of shillings and pounds, he handed her a few good heavy coins.

"Will I can't accept this – absolutely not! Besides dude, you should be saving for your future wedding," smirked Iris. "I do _assume_ you're going to marry her, that's what you people seem to have a great interest in nowadays."

Smiling sadly, he declared, "I'm not good enough for Elizabeth…at least not wealthy enough nor do I move in the same social circles as she does. I am nothing but a blacksmith and so I will remain."

Outraged, she nearly shouted, "Don't you dare put yourself down! I mean who on earth is willing to make sketchy alliances with people who aren't of the best reputation _just _to find the person they love most? Dude, that is _way_ 'O D' right there. And if she can't see you for your love and yourself just because you're not rich or famous enough, then I'm sorry buddy – she doesn't deserve you…But to be honest, you won't have anything to worry about."

Looking up suspiciously, Will asked bemused, "How can you be so sure?"

"How can she _not_ love you when you're so noble, kind, brave and ridiculously good-looking…" Realizing what she had blurted out, Iris quickly said, "Pretend you didn't hear me say that last part."

Breaking out into a smile and then into a full blown laugh, Will chuckled and thought it so strange. Had that statement been said to him by any other woman he would very well have been beyond ill at ease. "Iris, you are probably the wittiest woman I have ever met…"

"That's very sad, Will. You need more friends," she said pretending to be serious.

He laughed a little bit more and then looked at her in curiosity, "By the way what does 'dood' and 'Oh Dee' mean?"

It was Iris's turn to laugh really hard, "Oh boy, I have to teach you my brutish American slang now. Okay, so '_dude_' means like friend or 'mate' as I think a lot of you British folks say. Um, 'O D' stands quite literally for the letters 'O' and 'D' meaning overdose or something done in an excessive proportion."

"Those are probably the strangest sayings I've ever heard from _anyone_ who ever spoke English to me…What does 'Oh Kay' mean?," remarked Will who seemed genuinely fascinated.

"'Okay' means like alright, good, fine – take your pick on one of those, they're all synonymous," she explained to Will who was nodding his head in understanding.

All of a sudden out of the blue he asked, "Do you have family in New York?"

Not knowing really what to answer to that Iris thought about it a bit before responding. So far she had told him the truth but hadn't precisely gone into _the_ details. "Yes, I actually do have family in New York – both of my parents."

He stared at his hands as he asked softly, "Are you not married?"

The teenage girl looked at him like he had just grown a second head, "Married? Why would I be _married_? I'm seventeen. I'm not getting married until I'm in my late twenties."

"How do you kn— Wait, late twenties? Isn't that a little too…_old_?"

Forgetting that she was in 1720 and not 2008 she couldn't precisely argue with Will about age range for marriage when 18th century marriages were like legal pedophiliac systems. She was more than sure that child brides weren't exactly unpopular either.

"Well, maybe I want to be a spinster – being single is always fun," she said jokingly.

Whispering with all earnestness, Will said, "That would be an incredible waste…"

Shocked with astonishment, Iris looked at Will wide-eyed. He on the other hand turned tomato red with embarrassment. "Forgive me…that was completely out of place for me to say."

Trying to laugh it off in order to break the new uplifted ice, Iris said, "Hey, don't feel bad. That's probably the nicest thing I've ever been told by any man…and considering how freakin' dirty and busted I look right now...Thank you. Thanks, I really appreciate that – in fact I think that just made my day."

The blacksmith looked at her with dark chocolate eyes and smiled amused, "I find it amazing that you are able to twist my words into a friendly compliment."

Grinning like an idiot, Iris pouted like a gangster, "Chillax yo, besides – you're absolutely right. It would be a waste if I didn't get married. Like seriously, who _wouldn't_ want to be with this sex appeal?" She pointed to herself for further emphasis.

"Sex appeal?" asked Will raising a brow in amusement. "What does 'chillax' mean?"

"Chillax is a combined word between 'chill' and 'relax' it means to take it easy or calm down. As for the sex appeal, well that's a whole different story and I won't get into the linguistically compromising connotations behind _that_ one," she said holding the middle seed of the peach that had been completely devoured.

"Linguistically compromising connotations?" repeated Will looking at her with a disbelieving expression. "Those are big words for a blacksmith's vocabulary."

Iris chuckled lightly and was about to add something to Will's response when another voice cut her.

"It means that she doesn't want to be responsible for what her statement may have implicated." There stood Jack leaning against one of the wooden poles that held a tied hammock to it.

Both Will and Iris got up from the hammocks they were both sitting in. Neither of them had heard the pirate come down and who knows how long he was there listening on to their conversation.

"Now if you're done with this little tête-à-tête, I would gladly appreciate if you'd both get back to the deck and do some work," said Jack widening his eyes that matched the sarcasm that dripped from his words. Looking pointedly at Iris he added, "Otherwise I guess that makes an extra element of cargo."

Walking past Jack and up the stairs to the deck, Will left. The pirate captain however continued to stare at the dirty adolescent who was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable under his gaze. Wanting to break the ice, she said, "I found the stuff you told me to check out down here."

"I can see that, luv." He continued to leer at her and even though he felt some sort of strange amusement from her awkwardness, he was also becoming more and more interested in his little "cargo" after hearing her easy conversation with the boy.

"Okay," she said after a while. Smacking her thighs as she grabbed the food along other essentials and placing it into a net-like bag, she looked at him again to see if he was still looking at her.

He still was.

"Alright, you know what, I'm sorry but I really can't take this shit right now," she said with brimming anger in her words. "Do you have a problem? Because in all honesty I swear to god, I thought you were freaking ataxic or something. I mean either that or just eternally drunk.

"But what I really want to know is whether it's you're natural disposition to be a fucking asshole or are you getting a goddamn kick out of the fact that I'm depending on you right now?"

Unflinchingly and demonstrating no astonishment at her temperament, the pirate smirked a golden grin and said, "No problem whatsoever, luv. I just want you up on deck, savvy?"

Breathing in a long breath after her exertion, she grabbed her things as well as the resources she found. Hearing boots walking up the stairs, Iris muttered, "Asshole" softly under her breath.

"Oh and one more thing, luv," said the voice of the pirate from the stairs making Iris jump in surprise. "_Chillax_ darlin', you're the most productive cargo I've ever shipped."

Tying her greasy hair back, Iris wanted to cry. Never in her life had she ever been so filthy – _never_. Not even when she was covered with car grease from her mechanics classes did she ever become so disgusting. She probably smelt worse than a NYC hobo and Jack put together. Just thinking about how awful that would smell like, Iris wanted to throw herself overboard; at least the water would remove part of that crusted dirt on her skin.

Breathing in the air, she tried to ignore her own stench and concentrate on the smell of the ocean. To be honest, Iris always thought the ocean, back when she was in her own time, smelled funky – like rotten fish. Yet, maybe it was the Caribbean that was different…or maybe it was the lack of pollution. Either way, the wind in her face was refreshing and the view…well the view was spectacular. The water was crystal aquamarine, not that mucky sea green that was so familiar to the beaches in New York. The sun was bright playfully heating the waves out on the blue infinity that made her feel so insignificant. A small meager human at the feet of Mother Nature – insignificant she was to the beauty of the earth.

But the sky was perhaps the most breathtaking. They were so blue, so wide with only a hint of white cotton clouds. If she weren't dirty, if she weren't lost, if she were in control of her circumstances, everything – all of it – would be tenfold the magnificence. Even the polished wood of the ship and its bright white masts would have been better appreciated had she not felt so miserable.

And she would certainly be enjoying it more if that Jack Sparrow weren't such a douchebag. She really didn't understand how things could have gone so…wrong. It was all topsy-turvy and even if she were to blame Frankie for her sudden fate, that didn't solve her predicament. True, it was creepy enough she was having strange dreams with who knows what demons or devil or whatever evil wanted to communicate with her. Then she had also been assaulted by navy soldiers and was even close to being raped. And to top it all off she was ultimately in the hands of a drunk pirate who was the only one who really knew what was going on and who she was in debt of because he sort of, kind of, was the catalyst of their escape.

But there was Will Turner, and he was obviously the only decent thing in this whole scenario so far. He was so sweet and overall noble…but she couldn't stay around Will Turner because he was going after his rich girlfriend and she sure as hell didn't want to get caught up in that whole whirlwind. God only knew where they were going to end up at.

Sighing in resignation, Iris sat down on the deck leaning against the ship's hull. Taking her time to finally look through the stuff she had with her, she opened the wearing plastic bags and dumped out its contents.

Well surprise, surprise, she thought looking at the many things that Frankie had brought over her house during their sleepovers. There were, obviously, pajamas – rather scandalous really and sadly completely useless. Frankie was a rather thin girl and enjoyed wearing tight sleeping garments, that was a con for Iris considering that she herself was rather more thick although not necessarily fat either.

Putting the pajamas aside she looked at the other clothes. 'Jackpot,' thought Iris looking at the wife beater muscle shirt. There was only one but beggars can't be choosers so she didn't complain. Folding the green sleeveless shirt, she placed aside to take. There were a pair of shorts, although they didn't seem like they would fit, but considering that Frankie wore them lose like the wannabe ghetto gangster she was sure she could manage them on…besides there was no way in hell she hadn't lost weight after three days of being starved.

There was a pair of flip flops that seemed somewhat impractical if she was going to walk around all day, but who knew – she might find some use for them so they went along with the jeans and the shirt. And then there was something so wonderful and beautiful that Iris wanted to shed tears from happiness – in the pile was a small pouch with little sample shampoos, conditioners, soaps and other cleansing products. Of course they weren't fit for survival, _obviously_. Frankie had brought them over for quick showers and nothing more. But they were going to come in handy and she would have to make do – make them last till the very end if she could.

Oh, but what was this? Iris picked up a small silver device and what do you know – it was a camera. "Does this even have a memory card?" Iris asked herself out loud as she opened the camera's battery-card slot. Whistling and nodding her head in approval she stated impressed, "A four gig card. Way to go Frankie." The batteries were half gone but they were lithium so they could very well last a good while.

Turning on the camera, she zoomed in onto the landscape and shot a photo. Ridiculously happy with her new found familiarity, she began taking photos of the ship. Looking through the LCD screen on the device, she smiled knowing that this camera would have been something she would have taken for granted three days ago back in 2008. Something so unimportant, as material as it was, made her feel like she wasn't going insane and that somewhere, in some other parallel universe, there was a modern open-minded world waiting for her back home. And even as she took photos of the beauty surrounding her, she felt conflicted because although she felt she could stay in this splendor – she couldn't help wanting to leave away from the backward society that was enclosed behind those lovely landscapes.

"What is that?"

Startled, Iris nearly dropped the camera in a gasp. "Don't do that! You nearly scared the living daylights out of me." It was the second time he crept up on her in the same day.

Jack raised an eyebrow at her expression and looked at the things she had laid out on the deck. "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate if ye picked up yer thing's an' tightened the skyscrapers."

Folding her things neatly back into the plastic bag, she arranged it to fit inside her messenger backpack. She also stealthy put away the camera to avoid further questioning about it. Finally looking at the messy pirate in front of her she repeated, "Skyscrapers?"

"Aye, luv. The top masts on the ship, the really big ones," he said using his arms for further clarification.

"Oh. _Those_ skyscrapers…I was about to say," she muttered the latter portion to herself. She wasn't _that_ bad at history and she was pretty sure skyscraper _buildings_ weren't made until way later at least in the following century.

He eyed her strangely and suddenly announced, "You smell funny."

Giving him the worst glare she could muster, which unfortunately wasn't really intimidating but still got her sentiment across, she responded, "You don't smell like flowers either buddy. I haven't taken a bath in three _days_ but you look like you haven't taken a bath in three _years_."

Iris almost gagged when she saw Jack lift his arm to sniff his pit. "That's gross," she said giving him a look of revulsion. "What deodorant do you use, Passion Killer?"

"Trifles darlin', I have enough passion in my life as it is," smirked the rogue with that golden smile that seemed to reflect the sun's brightness.

"Oh yeah," Iris embellished by widening her eyes with exaggeration. "I'm sure sweaty armpit smell is probably a major turn on with the ladies. _Very_ sexy."

Grinning like a sly fox he moved towards her and said, "You'd be surprised what some people classify as erotic."

"That's called 'fetishism' where I'm from. And I have a hard time believing 18th century women enjoy smelly men," mused Iris looking at Jack pointedly.

"And what century are you from, luv?" he asked catching her unawares.

"W-what?" she stuttered in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"You said '18th century women' luv. Are you not from this century?" he asked playfully but at the same time with some degree of suspicion.

"Of course not," she assured him. "I just meant women of this century in general…in a manner of speaking…including myself."

"Uh-huh" he grunted in a low baritone voice. "Well luv, I think ye should get to those ropes. Wouldn't want te have 'em sails not up to their full speed."

"Alright, thanks."

Watching him leave towards the quarterdeck to the wheel, Iris sighed in relief. _'That was close,'_ she thought thinking at how frightening that one small moment of doubt was. Was it really that horrible for anyone to find out the truth?

'_Like anyone would believe me? Yeah right…'_

It was true. Something so out of the question like time travel would just send her to a nut house…or jail since they seemed to be one in the same in the era she was stuck in. Besides, even if they did believe her, they would think she was a witch who did some crazy witchcraft to get herself here.

_'Well, _I _wasn't the one who did the witchcraft in any case_…_oh Frankie what on earth did you get me into?'_

There were books on these sorts of things – string theory, alternative and parallel universes, and other urban legends that revolved on time travel. Was she in another dimension, had she fallen into a fabric of time…had Frankie's ritual opened a portal or had her little mumbo-jumbo ritual triggered some unknown force of nature?

Iris was a woman of science. She believed in the advances of technology, she believed in her greasy transmission oils, her 500 horse power model motor and she believed in what humans could do to progress.

Church was something she never went to, although her parents were semi-religious. After all, she was Hispanic and the Catholic Church was inescapable in every part of Latin America. But God was only a holy icon that meant nothing to her – except a part of history…a part of history that was conveniently setup to benefit certain groups. If you don't believe in God, could you believe in the devil? That made less sense to her, but if her dreams were at all credible then there was a Devil…as for there being a God…well a cynical part of her was convinced that God wouldn't bother contacting her unless she set-up an appointment. After all, as of late, he didn't seem to be on her side…if he was there at all.

Why would the Devil bring her here, she wondered…and why on earth would it be in this time period…? Was it punishment for something wrong she did? She'd heard of karma before but this was just unparalleled in all sense of the word.

Heaving noisily, Iris looked up at the clear blue sky that held the sun at its zenith. Closing her eyes for a moment to feel the warmth on her face, she leaned against the ship's rear. Under very different conditions this could very well be paradise. With that she snapped her eyes back open and walked herself towards the quarterdeck to start rigging the masts.

A voice caught her attention and for second she thought she was hallucinating, she swore she saw feet dangling from on top of the lower yard mast…

"Now, as long as you're just hanging there, pay attention. The only rules that really matter are these: what a man _can_ do and what a man _can't_ do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that someday. Now, me, for example, _I can let you drown_ but I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesy, savvy? So?" He said turning the yard and Will back into the ship. He offered the blacksmith back his sword and proposed, "Can you sail under the command of a pirate? Or can you not?"

"Tortuga?" asked Will curiously.

Grinning with pleasure, Jack repeated, "Tortuga."

"Turtle?" Iris asked interjecting between their exchanges. Both men looked surprised to see her leaning against the rear of the ship. "We're going to go see turtles?"

"Turtles?" asked Will looking at Iris for further clarification.

"Tortuga – turtle. Isn't that what it means? Or am I wrong, Captain?" she asked staring pointedly at Jack.

"Aye luv, but it won't be turtles we'll be seeing in Tortuga," Jack asserted with an even larger grin and with a strange glint in his eyes.

"It's a pirate haven," explained Will looking out towards the horizon.

"Oh I see. Keeping it all in the _family,_" said Iris beginning to feel the heat and irritation start to boil. "Thank you for having the _courtesy_ to include me in this decision," she drawled out sarcastically. "I always appreciate it when I'm entitled in making my own choices."

Turning on her heel, she stormed the other way before she got any angrier. And even though the 'all in the family' part had been a mean thing to say, especially to Will who had evidently just found out about his roots, she couldn't help but feel her temper rise in having her rights stepped on. Because they were men they had the right to make decisions that were most convenient for themselves and to hell with her?

"Iris," she heard Will call from behind her. "Iris, please wait!"

Ignoring him, Iris walked all the way to the back of the ship. Leaning forward on the ship's aft Iris looked out at the water that was turning a darker shade of blue as the sunset was making its way.

Catching up with her, Will sighed and stood next to her. "Iris, let me explain."

Not responding, she narrowed her eyes focusing further on the horizon. "No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue…" she whispered almost inaudibly while tapping her fingers on the wood.

"Pardon?" he asked not really understanding where that had come from.

"What the hell am I going to do in Tortuga?" she asked succinctly. "Did either of you dedicate even a few seconds to wonder what I was going to do in a _pirate_ haven? Or do you think I'll just fit right in?"

Closing his eyes, he shook his head in a 'no'. "I had simply assumed…"

"Assumed what?" snapped Iris. "That I was going to continue being Captain 'Jackass' Sparrow's cargo? Go take a reality check, won't you – and you can take that son of a bitch right with you. I can't stand _him_.

"I'm not going to stay with the two of you, first of all because you obviously both disregard me completely. Second of all, I'm sorry but I could really care less about your girlfriend or Jackass's little grudge."

"What?" asked Will who looked confused by what she had just said.

"Oh, so he hasn't told you?" snorted Iris sardonically. "Captain Jackass happens to have had his ship stolen a few years ago by his right hand man, or something like that. I'm not stupid, there's no way in hell that our dear _captain_ took an interest in you for no reason – you were the key to get out of jail and now he has a trail to follow his 'archenemy' with…and get his ship back in the process."

"Unfortunately, it seems that I need him as well, otherwise I won't ever make it to Elizabeth." Will looked at Iris who was staring at the sun sinking into the ocean.

"Isn't she lucky to have you," stated Iris apathetically. "Some of us don't have anyone that'll come to our rescue. On the contrary, it seems that in my case I bump into people who want to screw me over even further."

"Look Iris, I don't know precisely what you're facing but I want you to know that you can count on me if you ever find yourself in need of help," uttered Will Turner who now held her dirty but soft hand in his calloused one.

Removing her hand from his out of both embarrassment and lack of experience with the opposite sex, she asked "Have you ever done metal arc welding with steel?"

Lol, yes I know its random ending, but trust me it has it's purpose. As for the upcoming chapter, there shall be much much more excitement! Keep the reviews rolling :)


	12. Stainless Steel Stains Less

**Chapter 12: Stainless Steel Stains Less**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Author's Note:**_ So this is a long one folks. I kind of did it because I might not be able to update until a few more weeks. I'll see how well connected I am since I'm going on a little trip out of town. I hope you like it!

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**Stainless-steel Stains Less**

_1720, Tortuga, Hispaniola_

"Poverty is not written in the stars; underdevelopment is not one of God's mysterious designs." Iris recalled the quote from a book she had read a while ago and although at the time she had read it, she was a faithful believer in that phrase…the scene before her merited doubt.

Tortuga – disgusting, filthy, slutty, drunk, and most clearly…

Poor.

This was destitution and Iris understood it. True, it appeared to be the paradise of thieves and the heaven of buccaneers…but that didn't stop it from being an actual manifestation of poverty.

Because in reality that's what piracy was – a criminal life, but a way of life nonetheless. And it was a protest against distress, against starvation, and in a sense, against conformity.

Why was it alright for the poor to be left with nothing, to be forbidden everything but a folding of arms while the rich were swimming in their stolen gold, their conquered treasures, their pilfered profits?

And now as Iris looked at Tortuga, she wondered if perhaps this injustice was "God's mysterious design" just like how her appearance in the Caribbean on 1720 was the Devil's.

However, a walk through Tortuga was viewed differently by everyone who stepped foot in it – for Jack, Will, and Iris the island was seen through separate perspectives.

"More importantly, it is indeed a sad life that has never breathed deep this sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga, savvy?" declared Jack as if it were a statement of enlightenment. "What do you think?"

Though the question was directed at Will, Iris had her own say on what she thought of Tortuga. Jack was looking at the booze, the women, the fights…but behind all of it she could see children in the shadows. Some of them so thin from lack of nutrition with pronounced bellies and ribcages – signs of starvation. And of course they were starving when their mother's were earning wages through brothels – meager commissions that were divided by the Pimp and by the 'investor' of every whore house. The 18th Century investment in brothels was like the 21st Century stock share in _Apple Inc_.

There were also the women, of course. And unlike Jack, who probably saw sex on legs everywhere, she saw women who behind those painted faces of false smiles hid a deep weariness in their souls and darkened circles of misery beneath their eyes.

"It'll linger," responded Will.

Completely disregarding his younger acquaintance's look of slight recoil, Jack went on with his dissertation, "I'll tell you mate, if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted."

Will turned around to look at Iris with a raised brow. She just rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the pirate's statement. Whispering to him quietly she said, "This is a very sad place. I feel sorry for all these people…they don't know any better."

"I don't pity them – it's their choice to live like this," he said rather indifferently.

"Yeah, but—"

"Scarlett!" Both of them heard Jack call out to a bright redhead who looked like she had never stepped into _Sephora_ once in her life. The shameless pirate was greeted with a sudden surprise.

_**SLAP!**_

"Not sure I deserved that," he said scrunching his face. Iris snickered while Will seemed tied between confusion and amusement.

"Giselle!" he exclaimed with a semi-pleasant smile when he saw another woman come his way.

"Who was she?" asked the dirty lipstick smudged blonde.

"What?"

_**SLAP!**_

"I may have deserved that," admitted Jack with an unconvinced expression on his face.

Iris giggled at the Captain's abuse while Will shook his head with a smirk as they made way towards a pub.

It read on top _The Faithful Bride_. "Look's like this place is full of irony," said the dirty brunette looking at Will and then laughing when she saw Jack's expression of disbelief towards her. "Where are we going?"

"To find the only man who can find ourselves a crew," stated Jack with full affirmation pulling himself together rather quickly after being 'woman-handled' a bit.

"But where are we gonna be staying?" asked Iris beginning to look around in hesitation. It was like the white version of Bedford-Stuyvesant…but maybe even crazier.

"Master Gibbs rents up on the _Faithful Bride_, we'll be staying in 'em rooms tonight, but not without havin' a drink," he grinned toothily.

"Oh," said Iris scratching herself. Becoming unbelievably itchy and feeling a wave of cleansing mania come down on her, she pulled Will aside quickly, "Look, I'm going to go find somewhere I can take a bath."

"_Now_? Isn't it a bit…late?" said Will looking around at a few men shooting barrels of liquor.

"I know Will, but _please_ try to understand. I haven't taken a bath in three days!" Iris cried.

"But how am I to find you afterwards?" he asked wondering if she was going to come back at all.

"Don't worry Will, I'll meet up with you guys at the bar," she said looking at Jack who had gone into a barnyard. "I should get going. See ya in a bit."

"Wait!" he cried out. "Maybe I should go with you…" he said looking unsure of what to do.

"No Will! Just…just stay here, okay? I can look after myself." And with that she turned on her heel and headed to…

Well, she headed to anywhere that looked like there could be somewhere to bath.

"Shit," she cursed to herself. "Maybe I should have asked Jack if there was anywhere to get a bath around here."

Or worse, there could be nowhere at all to bathe from the glimpse of the island so far.

"What am I going to do?" she asked herself bring her hand to her forehead in frustration.

Her head was beginning to hurt from all the noise. It was like a really bad New Year's party but twice as boisterous.

The racket, however, became overturned by a loud sound of something or someone falling very loudly to the ground.

"_Sānbā! Chòubiǎozi! Jiào nǐ shēng háizi méi pìgu yǎn!_" The shouts came from an overly drunk Asian man who from the volume of his caterwauling. Iris could tell that he was cursing.

A shriek came from the side and she could see a young Asian woman with black hair that looked like it was trying to curl but was thoroughly unsuccessful. She had a glass bottle which she threw in the direction of the man, "_Cào nǐ zǔzōng shíbā dài_!"

The man got up and made his way to the woman – bending her over a wooden fence, he positioned himself behind her. He attempted to have his way with her. The girl struggled but it only seemed to emit more groans from the drunken man.

In that instant, clips of the Lieutenant on top of her flashed before her eyes in less than a second:

'…_Poor, helpless… warmed my bed at night… hot Latin blood…delicious… delectable little slut… spend myself inside the enemy.'_

"Get the fuck off of her!" Iris shouted and without even noticing she had pushed the man off the woman. "Go die!" she yelled at him, knowing that if she knew Chinese it would have been insulting enough. The sudden remembrance of her own trauma of almost being raped made her body itch adding to her feeling of filthiness.

The Asian girl who had fallen to a heap of tears was slightly in shock. She looked at Iris and uttered softly, "Thank you" in English.

Offering her hand, the young woman grabbed onto Iris to get up. The man had fallen onto the small pieces of shattered glass of the bottle that had been previously thrown at him. Groaning he picked himself up and fortunately walked away without taking up the fight.

"Are you okay?" asked Iris. The girl was disheveled and still wobbly in the legs. With a hasty "yes", the young woman rubbed her black-kohled eyes smearing it more across her cheeks.

"Where do you live?" she asked her, even though she was still a wreck.

The woman pointed towards what looked like a shack, or perhaps it was a cabin or hostel. It was decorated in a Mandarin style with many ruby tinted drapes. The residence read **天国鄭氏**in bright red characters on top of the roof. There were candles beneath them for better viewing at night.

"Okay, let me help you get there then." Walking the girl towards the house, Iris began to realize it wasn't a house at all. There were many women who were, considered by their time period, scandalously clad. Their corsets were slightly undone, their skirts ripped with ankles showing and like the women that slapped Jack, they wore ridiculously smudged make up.

Although, Iris thought, they weren't as bad as the ones found in the shabbier parts of L.A. who were sex fiends with STDs on legs.

"Here you are," she said leaving the young woman in front of the door. She was about to tell the girl to be more careful when another lady, slightly elder, but not at all ugly, came out pushing the other night women out of the way. She was dressed spotlessly with a beautifully red and gold silk cheongsam that shimmered under the candlelight. Her hair was up in a very traditional chignon with ivory chopsticks holding her straight black hair. Had this elegant lady not have had such a screechy voice, she would have been straight out of a movie.

The woman yelled at the girl in Chinese, which of course went in one ear to Iris and out the other. The girl, in response, began to cry and started screaming like a banshee.

Figuring it was her cue to leave, Iris took a few steps backwards and was about to depart when someone grabbed at her arm.

"And who are you?" yelled the elder lady in an English that was laced with a heavy Asian accent. Her grip was like a vice on Iris's sore and fatigued limb.

"Um…I, well, I'm just…Iris," she said feeling stupid. The elder lady looked at her suspiciously and then barked at her, "Go inside, NOW!"

Scared by the Chinese semi-grandma, Iris scurried in quickly. Once inside, the filthy brunette was blinded by the amount of red that was everywhere and the preposterously well kept condition of the place for how deceiving it looked on the outside.

Overcoming the shock of the place's splendor she noticed the women. There were more girls and ladies in here – all of them sharing that hair which looked like it had been attempted to be curled but failed. There was only the elder woman, Iris noticed, that kept her hair dead straight as was commonly found in Chinese women, even if it was up.

Still in awe at what was happening, she nearly jumped from her skin when the elder woman's voice announced strongly, "Now, we only give 25% commission here. However, if you wish to make more – you can take a customer on the side during the mornings and that earning shall be yours to keep. The rest of your money earned shall go to the house and to your food and dress."

"I-I'm sorry, I think there's a misunderstanding…" started Iris, realizing that the elder woman had a _completely_ different thing in mind for her.

"Are you not here to work?" she asked standing up straight with incredibly beautiful posture that would have made any woman half her age jealous.

"NO, no, not at all," blurted out Iris with wide eyes.

"Then why are you here?" yelled the woman whose voice made Iris flinch back.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed back in defense. "I just happened to come across that woman there," she said pointing at the girl who was she had saved. Iris explained that she had rescued the girl from being sexually assaulted.

"I see, so now you want to be rewarded in shillings?" sassed the elder woman loudly.

"NO!" yelled Iris, beginning to become irritated by the other lady's screaming. "You're the one who told me to come inside!"

"I thought you wanted to work!"

"No, I don't want to work as a…a…you know what! I just want to take a bath!"

Staring at her but still frowning, the Chinese woman remained silent.

"So," started Iris while running a hand through her greasy hair. "If you could point me in the direction of where I can find a bath that would be enough 'reward' for me…is that alright?"

Still staring at Iris with dark charcoal eyes, she narrowed them and said, "I am Madam Yuk Mon and that girl there," she pointed to the woman Iris saved, "is Li Li."

When Iris was about to respond to Madam Yuk Mon when she interjected, "This is Mistress Ching's brothel," she announced.

"I-I didn't know," said Iris honestly but still dumbfound. The name didn't ring any bells and although it felt like she was supposed to know that…she obviously did not.

"We are courtesan's Miss Iris," continued the elder woman. "But we have our dignity and so in exchange for protecting Li Li's _dignity_…little that she has left," she said glaring at the helpless Asian girl, "…we shall allow you to bathe on our premises."

Not even given a chance to protest, Madam Yuk Mon pointed, "This way." And with a graceful glide, the elder woman began giving orders in Chinese to each young lady in the area. Li Li was the first one to join Iris's said.

"Thank you so much, Iris," sniffed the young woman who was suddenly recovered from her hysterics. "Madam Yuk Mon never allows _anyone_ in unless they are a customer or one of us. She must find you _very_ interesting."

Not knowing what to say, Iris allowed Li Li to drag her and continue. "She was specially appointed by Mistress Ching to look after this brothel and is very strict with us. Madam Yuk Mon says that we are not like the other whores who work in Tortuga – we charge more because we are more. Unlike the women who loiter in _The Faithful Bride_, we are kept clean and free from illnesses. Only those with real gold can afford to buy a night," explained Li Li.

"Are you all from mainland China?" asked Iris seeing now different women as they walked past red-heads and blonds – some who were clearly non-Asian.

"No," answered Li Li. "Madam Yuk Mon is from Hong Kong and there are a few more from there too. However, recently a new partnership between the notorious Spanish pirate Eduardo Villanueva and Madam Ching has brought us new girls from France and England."

"Wait Li Li, if she's from Hong Kong…how do you understand her when she's yelling at you in Cantonese?," asked Iris looking at the pretty Asian girl who giggled.

"She yells at us in both Cantonese and Mandarin! Although, we understand her when she's saying bad words to us…even the other girls that are not Chinese."

Making an "O" with her mouth, she nodded her head in understanding. Iris observed each girl. Most of them were oriental, all with some sort of beauty or special feature. The French and English ones were pretty too although they tried harder to look more erotic than the others. Finally curious as to why they were all attempting to curl their hair, Iris wondered, "Why do you try to curl your hair, Li Li?"

"Men like curls more," she stated simply while twirling her semi-curls. "Women with curls sell more. We all try to curl our hair, although Chinese hair seems to be more difficult to maintain."

"Asian hair is beautiful, Li Li. Why would you want to curl it when straight hair is so lovely?" Iris asked sincerely. Personally, she had always loved straight hair, and would often pass by a salon around the corner of her house to see if their prices would lower on the Japanese or Brazilian straightening. Unfortunately, her parents would probably be against her doing anything to her hair even if it was cheap.

"I wish my hair were straight," she murmured to herself softly.

Li Li picked up a dirty strand of her hair and said, "It doesn't look curly to me."

"It's not," said Iris. "But right now Li Li, I really could care less if it were either, as long as it's clean – I'm happy."

The young girl giggled and confided, "Don't worry. Madam Yuk Mon is a professional in making any woman look her best." Whispering in the New Yorker's ear she said, "Madam Yuk Mon use to be a matchmaker in Hong Kong but Mistress Ching paid much better."

"Oh, wow," she whispered in genuine surprise. Back in New York, her Asian friends were more worried about getting good grades than getting married. But there was this one girl she remembered who was afraid of going back to Shanghai for vacation due to the fact that she thought her mother would give her an appointment with a matchmaker. In 2008, that sounded a lot like a fairytale…or a horror story depending on how you viewed arranged marriages. But in 1720, Iris wondered if there really was an art to hooking people up…or maybe it was just a non-virtual version of internet dating, like _Lava Life_…or something.

The further they walked through the place the more Iris realized that this 'shack' that seemed whorishly shabby on the outside was in fact a rather large and long house filled with expensive furnishings and other luxuries.

Walking through a golden fold-door, Iris realized that they had made their way to the bathhouse. Now, Iris had heard that in 2008 there were still some bathhouses around – especially in places like Japan. Other than that though, bathhouses were infamous for being associated with prostitution in the olden days.

This bathhouse however, was not luxurious as the rest of the house, but it was certainly impeccably clean. There were tubs but there were also what she considered a _rural_ form of showers – mini-waterfalls.

"Here we are," spoke Madam Yuk Mon who had a bath towel and a washing towel placed in her hands by another young girl. She handed them to Iris.

There were other women in the bathhouse too – occupying the tubs and the common Jacuzzi-like bathing area.

"You may leave, Li Li," said the elder woman. Bowing, Li Li walked in those small steps which Iris marveled at. "Now, Miss Iris, I will leave you to your bath. On the right," she said point to the mini-waterfall, "is for washing your hair. And on the left," she motioned to the tub, "is for bathing."

Picking up a strange substance that looked a little like soap, Madam Yuk Mon placed some in Iris's hand, "These small buds are for cleansing. They are made of lye. However, there are salts here that are also for bathing," she said pointing to a decorated jar filled with a purple salt substance. Turning to Iris she asked, "Do you have clean clothes with you?"

"Yes," answered Iris, not wanting to take advantage any further of the elder woman's hospitality. "Thanks, you've done enough already."

The elder Chinese woman looked the New Yorker straight in the eye and pronounced, "You will meet me outside the door when you are done. We shall talk, once you are done cleaning yourself." The older woman gracefully stepped out of the bathhouse, leaving Iris in awe of the sudden turn of events.

The dirty brunette turned in the direction of the mini-waterfall deciding to wash her filthy hair first. Carefully, she rummaged through Frankie's things and found the little pocket bag that contained sample washers. Searching for shampoo and conditioner, Iris heard something drop from the bag. She looked down to see what it was and it was nothing else but a pack of Marlboros. There were three cigarettes left but it was enough proof that Frankie was in fact a smoker.

"Why am I not surprised?" stated Iris rhetorically. She shoved the pack back into the small baggy and took out the envelopes of shampoo and conditioner.

She put the baggy back inside her messenger backpack and placed it to the side. Bringing the two envelopes with her, she began to remove her clothes almost in a frenzy to get out of them. Iris threw them aside and went on to wet her hair under the waterfall. She sighed in relief and in pleasure as she felt the grime being removed from her head and her hair. Massaging her head, she opened the shampoo envelope and poured half its contents into her palm and vigorously massaged out the dirt. As she washed the shampoo off she saw the brownish suds fall away and a great sense of tranquility came over her knowing she was becoming clean. Washing her hair out a second time, she rinsed and opened up the envelope of conditioner. Smoothing out the creamy substance in her palm she spread it throughout her hair gentle and making sure to cover as much as she could – including her horribly damaged and tangled split ends. Finally rinsing her hair out, it was bliss to run her hands through it again with its slick wet quality and most importantly, _clean_.

The girl moved to the tub now, although she noticed how the other women were now staring at her – and it wasn't because she was nude. They were all in awe over the liquid substances that had made her hair so clean and shiny. Although they whispered among themselves, none of them dared to approach her.

The tub had already been filled with water, so Iris dipped herself in and was relieved to feel the rest of the dirty begin to melt off. Using the salts Madam Yuk Mon had offered she dumped them into the water and used the lye to rub against her skin. Gradually the grim began to wash and peel off. Underneath the dirt though, she realized how much of a tan she had gotten with those few hours on the deck of the _Interceptor_.

Iris than made sure to wash her face with scrutiny, she rubbed everywhere from her chin to her forehead to the back of her ears. She used the wet wash cloth to scrub herself in every single inch and didn't want to even bother knowing how bad it smelt _down there_ having lacked proper washing for so many days. She tied her dark hair back with the bath towel and after scrubbing herself nearly raw she climbed out of the tub.

Removing the towel from her hair, she wrapped it around herself and simply sat at a wooden bench as the cleansing feeling brought on a relaxed and distressed mood for her to finally unwind.

Looking over at the Jacuzzi-like pool, she stood up and walked to it as if it were calling out to her. The stem that it radiated was perfect and once she dipped her foot in, she was lost. The warmth enveloped her and the voices this time weren't shrieking or screaming in her head. Instead they were lulling, moan slightly like soft whimpers of pleasure. She closed her eyes and threw her head back in repose. A familiar low baritone voice on her left ear that blew hot air and said, _"This is only the beginning, my love. I can give you so much _more._"_

But as if it were all a dream, Iris's eyes snapped open only to find herself that she hadn't walked over to the Jacuzzi pool and that she was still sitting there on that wooden bench. Shaken by her half-awake dream, she quickly bent over her messenger bag and got out the plastic bag with Frankie's clothes and ignored her dream as much as possible.

'_What was that?'_ she wondered nervously to herself. She just hoped that these incoming dream intrusions would just stop. Beginning to rush through the bag, quickly, she wanted to get out of this place which seemed misty with sleep and added a dream-like quality.

Finding some clean boxers hidden between the Frankie's outrageous sleeping lingerie, Iris pulled them on. Even though they were slightly tight considering she was much bigger on the hips than Frankie, they'd have to do. Fortunately, Iris's involuntary "diet" actually helped her in fitting into them – otherwise she'd be panty-less…or boxer-less in this case. Pulling on the jean shorts she had spotted previously, she was delighted to see that they felt slightly loose considering that Frankie liked them "gangsta style."

But the muscle sleeveless shirt was another story. She didn't have a clean bra and Frankie didn't have any in her bag. Although the shirt had one of those semi-inserted bras, it didn't make it any less see-through-like. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she decided to just pretend it wasn't a problem and deal with it…maybe no one would notice. She felt around in the bag for socks and came into contact with a miniature spray bottle; it read Coconut Verbena Lime Body Splash. Iris sprayed some behind her ears, on her neck and shoulders and even on her chest.

Frankie did have socks, fortunately, but her shoes were beyond mucky. Deciding to bare the flip-flops, she wore the socks and slipped the flip-flops on. Picking up her dirty _Converses_ and placing the bath towel around her neck, Iris walked out of the bathhouse.

And there precisely was Madam Yuk Mon, waiting for her. "Did you have a pleasant bath?" the beautiful elder woman asked with that strong demanding voice.

"Yes, I did Madam. Thanks a lot, I really needed it," responded Iris gratefully.

"Indeed you did," said the elder woman with a playful smile on her lips. Looking at Iris's dirty shoes she asked, "Do you need those washed?"

"Uh…yes, but…I can—"

"Gong Mai!" called out Madam Yuk Mon as another young oriental girl came out quickly walking in those small wondrous steps. "Please take these," the elder woman pointed at the shoes, "and make sure they are washed thoroughly for Miss Iris to take with her." Bowing courteously, the girl took her shoes from her hands and left off to get them cleaned.

Iris was still in disbelief with what was going on and so when Madam Yuk Mon ordered her to follow her into a beautifully decorated room with jade statues and growing bamboo trees, the New Yorker could hardly believe her eyes. Something of that nature would very well cost a fortune to have…hell it would cost a fortune to even go see it.

"This is beautiful," said Iris although Madam Yuk Mon said nothing. Folding her legs under her, the elder woman invited Iris to do the same thing as a table was set in front of them and another young courtesan girl appeared to serve them both tea and what Iris figured out to be rice cakes.

"Thank you," said Iris to the girl who served them and she waited for Madam Yuk Mon to talk. Once the young girl left the room, they were left in perfect silence.

Madam Yuk Mon sipped her tea quietly and held it so properly that Iris felt ashamed that she couldn't do it so ceremoniously.

"You are very striking Iris," the elder woman said after a long pause. "I knew that when I saw you with Li Li and that is why I thought you were in search for…work."

"Thank you," said Iris very softly with shifty eyes. She felt awkward and didn't really knowing what to say – especially when a woman like Madam Yuk Mon complimented you in that manner.

"And after your bath, I see that you are in fact quite lovely," she said sipping her tea calmly. "Those eyes you have Iris, are unlike any others that I've seen. You may not be beautiful, but you are most certainly, _striking_."

There was another long pause and the brunette shuffled a little not knowing what to say or do. It was back-handed compliment, that was for sure but it was the weirdest thing for her. "Iris, you would make a lot of money if you stayed here—"

"I'm sorry but I can't," affirmed Iris as diplomatically as she could. She wanted to put an end to any ideas the woman might have had in mind. "I'm not here to stay in Tortuga, I'm only…stopping by."

"Who are you with?"

"Excuse me?"

"Who are you with?" repeated Madam Yuk Mon. "Surely, as a woman you are not alone in a place like this one. Who are you travelling with?"

"Why does it matter? I'm not staying, it doesn't make a difference."

"If it doesn't make a difference than there's no harm in telling me," countered the older woman who hid a mischievous smile behind her cup of tea.

Sighing, Iris looked at the reflection in her own cup and said, "I'm travelling with two men – Jack Sparrow and William Turner."

Almost dropping her cup, Madam Yuk Mon asked in surprise, "What?"

"I said I'm travelling with—"

"Jack Sparrow," finished the elder woman for her. "What did that man offer you?"

"_Excuse_ me?" asked Iris becoming defensive of this sudden assault on her self-respect.

"Or have you too become infatuated with that ridiculous pirate?"

"Okay, I think this is my cue to leave," said Iris standing up ready to head off before the lady enraged her any more. "Thanks a lot for the bath but I gotta get going now."

"Jack Sparrow is a fool of a man and cares about no-one but himself…and his precious ship," declared the woman standing up as Iris gathered her things.

"Well I figured _that_ much out already. But thanks for the advice," she said as she threw on her messenger bag. "Oh and for the record, I'm not sleeping with him and I'm not interested in him either, because I know that's what you're probably thinking. So don't give yourself a hernia over it. Can I get my shoes back?"

With a snap of her fingers, Madam Yuk Mon had the very same girl who had taken her shows, given them back – but squeaky clean.

"You are making a big mistake, Miss Iris. That man will only bring you more trouble," she said ominously as if it were a premonition of some sort.

Snatching her shoes back, Iris snapped put, "Look lady, I don't know what you've heard about Jack Sparrow, but that's really not my business and in all honest – I could care less. I have my reasons to travel with him and I'd appreciate it if you stuck you're nose out of it. Thanks for the bath, goodbye."

Strapping her bag back on, she turned and made her way down the lavish halls towards the front door. Li Li appeared at her side as she walked in a quick pace.

"Is it true?" she asked with anticipation. "Are you with Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Yeah, yeah – I'm with Mr. Jackass Sparrow. What's the big deal? I just need him to get me to a decent port so I can make my way back home or anywhere in this goddamn century where people use at least half their brain."

"Iris, please be careful. That man is treacherous! He'll use you for what he needs and then set you aside. He's been here before and he _never_ pays!" she pleaded with wide-eyes of worry.

Completely in disbelief of what she was hear she tried to reason, "Look Li Li, I'm – not – having – sex – with – him. But, If it's really all that bad then I'll just find someone else to take me wherever. But thanks, Li. Have a nice night."

And that was probably Iris Uriquizá's most difficult job interview _ever_.

_The Faithful Bride_ was all clamor here and shooting there. Accidents may happen was an understatement in a place like this.

Will Turner, blacksmith of Port Royal and overall a good man, leaned against a wooden beam watching the rather frenzied scenario that surrounded. And even though he was on guard, his mind was supremely muddled with his preoccupation of what was to become of Elizabeth, what was to become of him, and whether that girl Iris would bother tagging along with their group any longer – especially considering how Jack had treated her.

Watching as Jack came towards him with two large mugs of drink, he stood up straighter. "Keep a sharp eye," the rogue advised rather ominously while shifting his eyes. But coming to a halt he added, "Where'd the girl go?"

"She said she was going to find somewhere to bathe," explained Will who looked at Jack rather sharply and slightly annoyed. "I don't think she's coming back, Jack. Seeing how you treated her so delicately."

Giving Will a stunned expression, Jack responded, "I don't think that lass is the delicate type, savvy? Keep an eye out for 'er too." Not bothering himself with wondering further about his little "cargo," he made himself comfortable at a table with the aged man known as Mr. Gibbs.

And so around two hours passed that way, Will had overheard the rather _tactless_ attempt of discretion between Sparrow and Gibbs and although that was an issue that should have preoccupied his mind more, his attention had been pulled towards the anxiety of not seeing Iris come back.

So what if she didn't come back? What if she had felt insulted enough by Jack to not want to return?

Reasoning it out, there was no basis for him to feel any loss – but the truth was that even though in those few hours where that girl who he barely knew diverted him was not precisely his complete familiar, he felt some sort of bond with her.

He remembered her last question. _"Have you ever done metal arc welding with steel?"_

It had taken him by surprise to say the least, but with that one question it seemed that a wall between them had been completely demolished because talking with Iris from New York wasn't like talking to a woman at all – or at least to the women he knew. First of all, her knowledge in blacksmithing was remarkable but most of all, her knowledge in welding which was something he always tried to improve on – the fusion of metals to create stronger yet lighter swords. Iris was obviously very erudite on the subject because she knew things that he had never even thought possible to create.

And at the same time it wasn't like talking to another fellow blacksmith because unlike Mr. Brown or the other apprentices he knew, Iris talked about welding and blacksmithery in terms of theory and scrutinized calculations through temperature and other logistics he'd never even heard of. Never in his life had he ever had such a deep discussion about _metals_. She appeared to be a passionate scholar with such a fine academic mind that when she spoke, he felt like she was literally transferring her mental data to him. It was rather invigorating and…addicting.

William Turner was anxious to hear her voice again, to converse with her and feel like he was actually getting something out of that conversation. With Iris it wasn't that ridiculous small talk about the weather or the setting. She was so direct and blunt but there was something so intelligent in her that made him want to have her near, to expose all her secrets to him. What complex depths hid within that mind of hers? Would he ever tire of it? He didn't know _that_, but what he did know was that he wanted to see her again and that if she had run away to follow her own path, he would become slightly devastated.

In reality, Will had never fancied himself much as an intellectual although there were many things that were scholarly related that fascinated him. He _wasn't_ a military man, perhaps in another life he would have been an academic…

A roar of laughter came from Mr. Gibbs at the table where Jack and he were doing "business," so to speak. There were women making their way to the table. One of them wrapped her arms around Jack which the pirate rogue only let out a cheeky golden grin. Will watched the scene from afar with a frown as he shook his head in disagreement.

"Looks like I haven't missed anything worthwhile," said a female voice behind the blacksmith. Turning around, Will came to face a girl with arresting green eyes, an unsettlingly straight smile, and a fresh tan on her skin. Her hair was a little longer than shoulder length and it was still damp from what looked like a…bath.

"Iris?" asked Will looking at her in disbelief wondering if he wasn't hallucinating from drowsiness.

She made a face and asked, "Why do you look so surprise? Well, I guess I'd be surprised too if I realized there was an actual _person_ underneath that ball of dirt I was in."

"You look…different," he said not knowing what to say without being too forward. She looked good really, but her clad arms, neck and legs made his face become very warm. Her dressing was still very strange.

Iris laughed and placed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Well, I hope I look better than I did a while ago. So what's, going on? Did I miss anything?"

"Besides those two," he motioned to Jack and Gibbs, "drinking themselves into stupor, you haven't missed much," answered Will with disdain. "Although, they did mention using me as _leverage_."

"Leverage?" repeated Iris with an eyebrow raised. "Guess I wasn't too far off from what I thought Jack was doing…he seems like a shameless bastard," she said non-chantingly. "Speaking of which, you have no idea what I've just been through."

"You were gone for so long," said Will. "I had begun to believe that you took off on your own."

"Take off on my own?" questioned Iris. "In the middle of the night? I'm impulsive, but I'm not stupid."

"So where did you go?" he asked curiously as to why she took so long.

Blowing air from her mouth, she began to explain to Will her crazy mini-adventure and how she was mistaken for a prospective prostitute and how she was warned _numerous_ times to beware the 'treacherous' Captain Jack Sparrow.

"But hey," she ended her little tale. "At least they washed my shoes," she said holding up her soggy _Converses_.

"Why am I not astonished to hear such a _colorful_ profile on Sparrow?" asked Will rhetorically as he glanced over the two drunken pirates with the laughing women surrounding them.

"Maybe because he looks the type?" offered Iris. "I don't know about you but he has that feel, you know? Like he's hiding something under his sleeve."

Throwing one last glare towards, the table, Will turned to Iris and said, "You asked me if I had worked with steel – I usually use wrought iron. Mr. Brown…my teacher in blacksmith, he prefers its cost."

"So he buys it 'cause it's cheaper?" interpreted Iris to the point.

Chuckling, Will nodded his head in accordance, "Yes, he buys it because it's cheaper. Have _you_ ever done 'metal arc welding with steel'?"

She bumped his hip with hers and answered, "_Yes_, I _have_ done 'metal arc welding with steel." She laughed and went on to explain how there was a specific steel called 'stainless-steel' which was the most preferred over any other type of metal for making swords, where she was from.

"Stainless-steel?" asked Will becoming more interested buy the minute. "What is it?"

"Well," began Iris trying to gather the information she knew in an organized manner so she could try to explain it. "Stainless-steel is a special metal. There's a secret ingredient to it and that secret ingredient happens to be chromium. Are you following me so far?" she asked as Will who was literally absorbed and simply nodded his head for her to continue. "So chromium is a…uh…it's a solid substance that forms part of the metal in order to make the steel alloy. When I say alloy, I mean a sort of metal fusion...to put it in simpler terms. So anyway, it has to have at least around 12% of chromium or like at least over a tenth of the amount of metal you're working with. But you don't want too much either or you'll end up cracking the steel when you're forging.

"Now ideally, stainless-steel doesn't rust and it is completely corrosion resistant BUT…it isn't stain-proof…it just _stains less_," explained Iris wittily as Will became more and more distant from his surroundings and was solely focused on what she was saying. He laughed at her joke and smiled charmingly, which made Iris feel awkward again and more nervous.

"So yeah, stainless-steel is probably the best metal you'll ever want to use for a sword. But there are other factors you have to take into consideration like _what_ sort of sword you want. Stainless-steel isn't always you're best option for everything. But most swords nowadays, I'm assuming, are rather light weight so there needs to be loads of flexibility there. Remember what I said about a steel alloy being kinda like a metal fusion? Well, the most common alloy would be carbon steel because it's what really gives the metal steel its hardness. You shouldn't have too little or too much of carbon either in steel – it works similar to chromium. That means if there's too much carbon, the sword you make will end up brittle in no time and crack. So basically there should be, like, only about 0.7 % carbon in your metal 'batter,' if you know what I mean."

"I don't think I've ever heard so many percentages in blacksmithing in all my life," said Will looking at her still rather blown away by her evidently knowledgeable mind. "How do you know so much about metal welding?" he asked inquisitively.

"Oh well…um I watch my dad a lot," Iris answered hastily. She felt horrible lying to Will but what was she going to say? That she took college classes in advanced metal welding and automotive mechanics after school with _girls_ and _boys_? If she said that, she had the strange feeling that Will might just make a 180 degree turn and run for his life.

"Your father was a blacksmith?" asked Will making sure.

In attempt to change the subject she said, "What are you – a detective? What's all this questioning; I don't even know anything about you. So you better start talking…and while you're at it, you can buy me a drink."

He grinned and they both made their way to the bar. Signaling to the barman, who was cleaning a mug with a rather nasty looking rag, Will ordered, "I'll have a grog and for the lady…?"

"Yeah, I'll have a Margarita on the rocks and make sure to add in some extra _Jose Cuervo_," she said with a smirk at the barman who blinked at her dumbly. "I was kidding. I'll have the same as him."

The fat barman handed them over two yucky mugs with their 'cocktails' which would have made any decent pub in 2008 go broke for disregarding sanitation rules.

"Let's make a toast," proposed Iris raising her mug.

"What for?" asked Will as he raised his own as well.

Pouting her lips and clanking her mug with his, Iris said, "Let's toast for the first time I try this 'Grog' thing, for me taking a bath, and for meeting such an awesome person like you, Will Turner."

Smiling Will, quipped out, "Likewise" as they both drank a large amount of the mugs contents. For Will it went down rather smoothly but for Iris…

"Iris, what's wrong?" asked Will worried as her looked at her face of repugnance.

"This tastes awful," she finally croaked out after trying to cough away the flavor. "I-it tastes like a really bad, run-down version of _Bacardi_ Lemonade…or a really badly mixed 'Cuba Libre.'"

"It's lemonade with rum, Iris." Will just looked at her as she made faces at her mug. "You're exaggerating; you're probably not used to the rum that's all."

'_Not used to the rum? What's this mofo talking about? I've tasted more Rum and better ones then he ever will!'_ She thought in her head as she tasted the nasty diluted Rumanade, as she decided to endear it.

"They added water to this, didn't they? It's disgusting – if I get sick I'm suing this place," she said. In reality though, Iris wasn't really kidding about getting sick. She was from 2008 and from New York where the water came from one of the most filtered water systems on the planet. How she was _not_ going to get sick was the _real_ question. Was she going to have to survive on rum for the rest of her god-knew-how-long life here? At least the alcohol disinfected whatever little evil bacteria were floating around in the nasty mug.

"I'm sorry, Will. I promise I'll pay you back but I really just can't drink this," she admitted honestly. "Can I get some tea or anything with _boiled_ water?"

"I don't think they have tea here, Iris," said Will making signals to the barman. "Yes, can I get a—"

"_Pure_ rum, please," said Iris quickly before Will tried to order something else for her. "Here," she said sliding her 'Grog' to Will. "You can have my Rumanade."

"Thanks," he said lifting his mug in a toast and downing it like water.

She took a sip of the rum she ordered and in feeling the burn down her throat and into her belly, she sighed in happiness. It felt like it was disinfecting the bacteria from her insides.

The only con to the whole drinking scenario, Iris realized, was that she hadn't really eaten anything. So of course, it was only a matter of time, minutes really, before she went completely drunk. It was inevitable when she had no food in her stomach to counteract the alcohol's effect.

"Will!" them both heard being shout from the table where Sparrow and Gibbs were seated at.

"I'll be right back," reassured Iris as he walked over to Jack who looked like he wanted him 'to have some fun.' Rolling her eyes, Iris leaned against the bar and took small sips of her drink, which she knew was actually worse than taking big gulps because it was more productive in getting someone drunk. But at this point – she didn't care.

Grabbing her shoes to see if they were dry, she felt them no longer wet and slid them on. Any one sober would have realized how weird her dressing was but since no one around really was sober…it wasn't much of a problem. She put away her flip-flops in her bag, when something at the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Walking into the bar was a man, tall with dark skin – a product from both the sun and his own race. It was obvious that he was mixed from his intense cobalt blue eyes. Although he could have passed off easily as a white sailor, Iris noticed the structure of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyes and even the pointing of his nose. As an immigrant who lived in the city and who was used to seeing thousands of ethnicities day after day, telling races apart and figuring out who was what became a daily habit. He was half white and half Native American of some sort, but from his dressing she figured him to be half…

No, that would be way too much coincidence. Out of all the possible places to be, why would one anyone from _there_ be _here_.

Seeing that he was making his way to the bar, she looked away and pretended not to see him. He placed himself next to her to order. "Rum – pure," was all he said but the barman understood and he slide him a mug.

Iris bite her lip hard because had she been in Africa, China, England or even Tahiti, she would have spotted that accent and dressing in any scenario. She wanted to burst out and ask him straight out if he came from where she thought he came from but she was scared to.

No one sported a broken nose for the heck of it. It was obvious that this tall mysterious man had reckoned a good few fights and she wouldn't be surprised if he was the one that started them.

Discreetly as possible, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. His ashy brown hair feel into his face covering his gaze and his jaw was set firmly as if he were waiting to lash out. Looking at his arms and chest she realized he was well toned all around with firm muscles and a nice tan to show them off.

Looking back up into his face, she saw that he was looking straight at her – she had been caught. Opening her mouth in trying to cover her most obvious "checking-out" session, she interjected with his greeting.

"Hello."

"Hola."

…and the 'hello' had come from him. Wanting to punch herself in the face she bit her lip hard knowing she had screwed it up – majorly. Her nerves had gotten to her and of course, she _had_ to slip in Spanish.

He stared at her with a long silent pause and grinned slowly almost sensually with those beautiful lips that looked like they had been sculptured by the Gods. He tilted his head and said, "Hola."

Feeling the perspiration begin to trickle down her back from uneasiness, she circled the rim of her dirty mug which all of a sudden became very interesting.

She felt his eyes on her and deciding to turn her head to confront him, she faced him only to realize he was observing her. A glint became caught in his eyes and Iris realized she had definitely been caught.

His gruff voice seemed to overturn the clamoring in the room and she distinctly heard him ask, "_¿De donde eres tú?"_

Oh, but she was oh-so _very_ screwed. Licking her lips that were all of a sudden dry, she didn't have the bravery to look him in the eyes and answer. Gulping gently she didn't even get the chance to answer when all of a sudden she felt a rough, calloused hand grab her chin. Her green pools met his dark blue ones and with that his face slowly grew into a crooked smirk.

"_Pero mira lo que tenemos aquí – una Chilenita en Tortuga_," he said taking in her every feature with his eyes.

She took his wrist in her hand and detached him from her face. "_No hablí tanto, huevon. Que vos también sois Chileno y también te encontraí muy sentado allí mismo._"

He chuckled in a low tone as he continued on their conversation in Spanish. "_Isn't she cute, with her little Chilean accent?_" he said teasingly. "_I knew you were Chilean when I saw that pretty little face of yours…not to mention that temper. But you recognized me first, didn't you?"_ he asked mischievously.

Iris was torn between spitting in his face and a sudden morbid curiosity of what would happen if she continued the conversation.

"_I could see the Mapuche in you a mile away – like you said I have a temper. Me and you both know where _that_ comes from,_" she said looking him straight in the eyes. They were so blue, bluer than the ocean and the iris was circled in a black ring. Those eyes threatened to warp her in.

"_But you're not full Mapuche,_" he said with a sudden disdain. "_You have white man's blood in you._"

"_And so do you,_" she pointed out quickly after his statement.

How many times did she hear that at home? At home her parents always said she was 'American' – not Chilean. Well, her parents weren't full Mapuche native either – hell, there were few Hispanics that were full _anything_. Latin America was a melting pot of those who conquered and those who _were_ conquered. In Chile 2008, your ancestors most likely ranged in a mix between Mapuche native, Spanish, English, Scottish and maybe some German or Dutch. Either way, being from the future automatically made her an inbreed in 1720 where there were those who still maintained themselves with their own people – not mixing.

But this guy, he was definitely mixed with a Brit or maybe a Scot from the size of his nose – which was large to begin with…probably even before he broke it a whole bunch of times. And from the way he was dressed, well he looked a little like Jack in terms of weariness of clothes. And what other sort of man would be in Tortuga, wondered Iris; none other but a pirate of course, because only a pirate would find sanctuary in a pirate haven.

There was a momentary pause as the man, swirled the rum in his mug. He looked at the bar in general, and then at her.

"_Let's start again,_" he announced extending his hand. "_I am Pedro Maria Ñancupel Alarcon, and you are...?_"

Iris smiled that smile which she knew looked a whole lot better in 1720 than it did in 2008. This was going to be fun. After all, it wasn't every day you met a Chilean in pirate in Tortuga, in 1720.

Translations

_**Sānbā! Chòubiǎozi! Jiào nǐ shēng háizi méi pìgu yǎn!**_**: **Slut! Stinking whore! May your child be born with an imperforate anus!

_**Cào nǐ zǔzōng shíbā dài**_**!:** Fuck your ancestors to the eighteenth generation!

_**¿De donde eres tú?**_**:** Where are you from?

_**Pero mira lo que tenemos aquí – una Chilenita en Tortuga**_**:** But look what we have here – a little Chilean in Tortuga.

_**No hablí tanto, huevon. Que vos también sois Chileno y también te encontraí muy sentado allí mismo.:**_Don't talk so much, asshole. You too are Chilean and your sitting right there quite comfortably.

Well, hope you enjoyed. R&R. Oh, and mini-question: I'm under impression that it's much easier to read when I have it understood that their talking in Spanish but the dialogue is written in English for the reader. But I want opinions, do you guys prefer it if I stuck it to the actual way they would be speaking and provide translations or not?


	13. Hangover Remedy

**Chapter 13: Hangover Remedy**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Author's Note:**_ It's been about three years since I updated this. What else is there to say? Sorry I've let you guys down for so long. But here I am again at it!

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**Hangover Remedy**

_1720, Tortuga, Hispaniola_

Summer in New York City is a giant Turkish bath. The city is over heated by everyone and their grandmother turning on the AC on full blast… and those who can't afford an air-conditioner end up living in oven-like apartments. Unfortunately, Iris was one of those people who didn't have the privilege of having an AC and so she remembered how most summer days were spent lying on her bed, back towards the ceiling feeling how the drops of sweat dripped down her spine while looking out the window with sleep heavy eyes.

Right now she was feeling something similar as she lied towards her right with drops of sweat running down the side of her head and her clothes moist on her like a second skin. The smell and color of the sheets might have been a bit more than questionable had she been sober last night but at the given time it seemed like a wonderful idea to sleep anywhere relatively soft. Her eyes were small with left-over grogginess as she looked out the window that was different from the one she was used to looking out of. She wasn't sure whether staring out into a clear blue sky and a port on the Caribbean shore was more welcoming than looking at the back of her neighbor's yard but what she did know was that it was completely new and reminded her that she wasn't home.

The cinematic view outside was so surreal to her that if she could just smell the aroma of the Halal stand outside her school again, she would feel a bit more comfortable. However, the only smells she was getting were the stenches of dried urine, spilt alcohol and drunken breath. And now that she was waking more to her senses, she felt heat on her neck that wasn't just due to the humidity. It was a heated breath of someone snoring on the nap of her neck. Had she been more asleep than awake it may have felt erotic but since it wasn't the case, it just became disturbing. Without thinking twice she fumbled to get off the bed and stand on her legs when a horrible sharp pain attacked her brain.

Iris moaned at the sharp twinge. '…awful hangover…' She peered over at the bed and saw that it was Jack who had been breathing down her neck. Looking over at the rest of the room she realized that Will was asleep in the corner on top of what looked like a sorry excuse for a blanket. A loud obnoxious snore nearly scared her to death as she looked down and saw that Mr. Gibbs had been the one to emit it. As she rubbed her forehead she tried to recall last night but could only make out bits and pieces of her conversation with Will and then a pair of cobalt blue eyes who looked at her somewhat morbidly.

"Did you enjoy last night luv?" asked the shameless pirate with his dirty golden smirk with groggy eyes.

"Oh I definitely did," she replied sarcastically. "Definitely appealed to my exhibitionist fetish with Will and Gibbs in the room."

Jack chuckled from his chest. A sound that on a clean and cologne smelling man may have been a huge turn on…but alas, it was not. He smirked wickedly, "Oh no love, we haven't gotten there yet, I meant how you enjoyed Tortuga." Giving her a look over, he added, "…but I must admit it is quite tempting with what ya wearin'." Looking down at her tank-top and shorts she figured she must look scandalous for the time period. Now that she thought of it, it was a miracle no one had assaulted her last night.

"It's hot outside and I don't have anything cleaner or more comfortable to wear," she said sincerely.

"You can't wear that with the crew on board," said the dirty pirate rubbing his tired eyes and yawning away the sleep.

"What crew?"

"The one we're gettin' ourselves today. If we want to save Will's girl we need ourselves a crew."

Iris laughed cynically, "And to get your ship back right?"

Jack just looked at her and smirked to himself not responding. She shook her head and then asked curiously, "Wouldn't you just rather leave me here?"

The pirate grinned, "Gibbs is cautious about having women on board…but I don't mind." His grin widened as Iris understood the implication of what he meant.

Iris made her way to the window, careful not to step on Mr. Gibbs. She saw the ships as the swayed side to side on the light turquoise water. "I thought I was cargo," she stated flatly.

"We'll find use for you."

"A decent use, let's hope," she snorted.

In the corner of the room, the rustling of clothes could be heard. Will was rubbing away the sleep from his eyes.

Jack stood up from the bed poking Gibbs with his foot. "Gibbs, get up man!"

"Good morning," yawned Will as he walked in Iris's direction.

"Good morning," smiled Iris. "How is it that I managed to sleep on the bed with Jack?" she asked curiously.

"He said because he was Captain and therefore was to sleep on the bed and because you're a lady…you did too."

"Isn't he the gentleman," she said with sarcasm. "It seems I'm not going to be dumped here after all."

"I told Jack it would be safer if you came with us," explained Will. "Tortuga is no place for a lady."

Iris raised an eyebrow at him, "How are you so sure I'm a lady?"

Will shrugged, "An inkling."

"Gibbs go find us some men…" ordered Jack who then looked at Iris and said, "…and get the girl some clothes."

Iris grabbed Wills arm and asked him aside whispering, "What exactly happened last night? The last thing I remember is talking with you over some drinks and then I remember some guy I started having a conversation with…he told me his name…but I don't remember."

"Jack called me over but once I saw that man near you I took you immediately away from the bar and sat you next to us. He left soon after and you were quick to fall asleep…Do you remember anything that man said?"

Iris remembered some tid-bits and recalled him speaking in Spanish to her. "Some things but they don't make any sense at the moment."

"Well as long as he didn't harm you," Will said with genuine concern.

"Not that I would remember anyway…" she responded rubbing her temples hoping the pain would dull down.

Jack was eyeing the bag near the door, curious to know what the girl carried around with her with such jealousy. Since he met her in that cell in Port Royal, the strange New Yorker had the wheels of his head turning wondering who she was and why she was so odd. He recalled their last conversation discussing piracy and freedom and it was probably the first time in a long time he had thought so much, let alone after talking to a woman. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. And the thing was that the wheels of his head weren't turning because of any romantic notions but because she had perturbed a part of him that he had locked and hidden away in the depth of his mind. She had questioned him as a pirate, a _man._ He liked his ideals simple, uncomplicated and to the point yet he knew somewhere inside of him that his oppressed side would surface to haunt him. He wasn't blind to the world. It was impossible to be. But he was a blind man on purpose and there is no blind man worse than he who does not want to see. It had been quite a while since he thought so much. Touching his wrist where the branded "P" in his skin protruded he concluded, it indeed was a long time he hadn't thought about the world outside the pirate fantasy.

Watching the way she spoke to Will he saw every single detail he hadn't spotted in his time in that dark cell where she had only lay bare the contents of her mind but now…he saw how she smiled and gesticulated often with her hands when she explained, the dimple that formed on her right cheek. Now that she was clean, he could make out the chocolate shade of brown her hair was changing shades depending how the sun hit it. He would hardly say she was among the most beautiful of women he saw, but she was…striking. The light angled just right to make out the color of her eyes, a shade that undefined between wanting to be blue or green. Her posture relaxed with her personal bag on her back, her left-side leaning on the wall, placing her weight on her right leg while bending the other. Her strange outfit leaving plenty clad gave him a good view of her youthful skin, only slightly tan from the prior day's travel. She was young and lovely, concluded the Captain. And for that moment just observing her and Will made him think, _who_ was she? And did Will have more of a privy into this girl's life? And why did that bother him, even if insignificantly so? The pirate eyed the bag, was there anything that could reveal who she was? Jack never was a fan of mystery except when he was the one inventing it.

Iris had felt Jack's gaze on her and Will since she began speaking with him and was quick to notice his actions. The Captain quietly walked towards Iris's strange bag to take a peek inside, but she had already swiftly walked over and grabbed it before Jack could even have a chance.

"What's in the bag there, darlin'?" He questioned with a false smile.

"None of your business," Iris stated quickly.

"Ah but you see anyone who comes on _my_ ship, is _my_ business, savvy? So you best start showing me the contents of said business if you want to be ridin' on me ship, luv" he stated seriously. It irritated him that she was so easily enraptured in conversation with the boy probably divulging every bit about herself but wouldn't allow him, who she had met first, to look into her silly bag.

"You can't do that Jack, you promised last night–"

"THOSE are my conditions or else she won't be coming aboard." The pirate quickly interrupted before Will could defend her.

Pressing her lips in anger and in impotence of her situation, she answered as restrained as she could, "Then I guess I'm staying here in this shit hole. Thanks a lot for everything you've done for me gentlemen, _bon voyage_."

Iris marched out in a hurry from the room purposely slamming it open against the wooden wall, ignoring Will who was calling out for her. "Iris, wait, Iris!"

Behind him the lower timbre of Jack's voice could be heard, "What's so important in that strange bag of yours that you're so reserved in not wanting to reveal?"

Angered by the Captain's voice that implied he knew she was hiding something. "And why are you so inclined to know what's in the bag? This is my privacy and if you have trouble respecting that then that's your problem but trying to blackmail me into showing you something I don't want to will get you nowhere," she said fuming feeling cheated and pissed off she had to figure something soon before she was eaten alive on the island that would make Las Vegas look like Disney World. "And you know what, _Captain_? Do I ask you about your shit or have I asked you for any explanations as to where we are going or what we're doing? Why is it that now you have this itching curiosity to look through my shit, huh? What's the fucking _problem_?"

The smirking pirate just looked at her and responded, "Your reaction makes me all the more curious, luv."

Looking at the man incredulously she just smirked and tightened the grip on her bag, "Two can play at that game Captain _Jackass_ and so you can just keep on guessing."

The look on the Captain's face fell, "Fine I don't care about your bloody bag. I have a ship, I have a ship…" he went about his way singing towards port.

"How mature," thought Iris out loud.

Will placed his hands on Iris's shoulders and told her, "He needs me for leverage, you're coming with us whether he likes it or not."

"Or what?" asked Iris raising an eyebrow giving him a look that said 'what are _you_ going to do?'

Taking her hand he dragged her towards the port, yelling at the pirate, "Jack if Iris doesn't come on board then neither do I!"

"Is that so, mate?" The pirate turned around to face the young blacksmith, "Then perhaps you've decided to turn your affections to someone more available?" He said this looking at Iris suggestively.

Taken aback Will was about to respond when Mr. Gibbs interrupted, "Captain, here are the clothes you requested."

Looking at Iris and slowly smiling, Iris knew he would use this moment to make her feel like she owed him something. A feeling she decided made the pirate feel secure.

"Aye, give the lass those clothes, she'll be needing them with the crew on board."

Giving her a look that said what she was wearing was ridiculous; Iris snatched the garments from Mr. Gibbs's arms and slipped over the loose blouse and trousers.

Smirking merrily, Jack made his way to the _Interceptor_. "And Iris," added Jack stopping in his tracks. "You can thank me later, luv."

Iris just turned to Will, "What is that supposed to mean?" She rolled her eyes in irritation. She was slightly worried about Frankie's bag and her own messenger bag as well. The things that had traveled, through time with her she would eventually have to reveal or they would be discovered sooner or later…better from her than if they saw the stuff on their own without understanding it…right?

First of all she would have to get comfortable enough with Will and Jack to confess what she was going to say and when she finally revealed her things, she had to convince them she wasn't a witch or anything…not that Jack was anyone to judge her after his more than questionable background. But when would that moment be…that opportune moment?

'…_Guess you'll know it when it hits you right? ...right…'_

"Iris…is everything alright?" asked Will seeing that she had completely zoned out.

"Huh? Oh…sorry I was just thinking, that's all…Is that Jack's so called crew over there?"

There was a colorful array of personas: a midget, a man with parrot on his shoulder, and the rest of them looked like they came out of the nuthouse.

Gibbs taking Jack aside began to introduce the crew, "Feast your eyes, Captain. All of them, faithful hands before the mast, every man worth his salt. And crazy to boot."

Iris looked at the entire interaction with amusement while Will began to give his own opinion on Jack's choice of men. She thought Mr. Cotton and his parrot were her favorite by far…until the voice of a woman spoke up and smacked Jack three times. Then _she_ was her favorite. Apparently the shameless Jack Sparrow had "borrowed" her boat without permission and hadn't given it back which sounded completely credible knowing the little that she knew about the Pirate Captain. Iris began to chuckle at the scenario until her eyes laid sight on a particular face with a crooked nose and deep azure eyes. She hesitantly walked up to the man and dazed she asked him in Spanish, "_What are you doing here?_"

Grinning he responded, "_I'm joining the crew…like everyone else._"

"_Why are you in the Caribbean?_"

"_Am I not supposed to be?_"

"Is there a problem, luv?" asked Jack who she hadn't heard come up behind her. Will too eyed the man suspiciously. "What's your name, mate?"

"My name is Juan," said the man with a thick accent. Iris looked at him not sure what to make of him. Jack looking him over cautiously first, ended up welcoming him to the crew much to Iris's displeasure.

Iris looked at Will and waited till all the crew along with Jack went on board. "Will, that guy is straight-out lying. He told me his name last night and it was not Juan. I don't know what his intentions are or who he is but he's freaking me out."

"Iris, I'll keep a close eye on him. Why are you so afraid of him?" His face questioned her fears. It seemed a slight over reaction from her part.

"I'm not afraid of him…he's just a bit spooky."

Walking on to the _Interceptor_, Iris felt something between anxiety and curiosity. "Juan" looked at her with such intensity and with a gleam that made her nervous. He was in on something she wasn't in on and it was bad enough that she had an awkward tension with Jack, but now she had two men on board giving off weird vibes. And who would understand? The rest of the men, and even the only other woman on board, would probably also think her silly for feeling uncomfortable about a man who had done nothing to offend her.

So Iris helped with what she could while on board until the storm hit and they were all doing the best they could to keep the ship from turning over. Gibbs kept eyeing her and Anamaria like a bad omen. Will would just tell Iris to ignore the old sailor. The only ones unnerved throughout the tempest were Juan, who was non-pulsed by the intensity of the storm, and Jack, who was too caught up in the joy of being closer to their destination.

What bothered her the most was that every time she felt a strange sensation, as if she were being observed, she would look up to see Juan staring at her. The way the lightening lit up his face, particularly his eyes, was creeping her out. At one point Anamaria appeared to have noticed, "Oy, you there, lass! Come help tighten the ropes on these." Glad to have found an excuse to be away from the creepy pirate's view, she whispered her thanks to Anamaria who replied, "He's had his eye on you since we boarded. I'd keep an eye out."

"_I thought I was the only one who noticed_," she whispered to herself in Spanish while tightening the ropes on the sail.

"_It's best you don't make a show out of it,_" replied Anamaria in Spanish with her Caribbean accent. "If he comes on te ya, just cut off his _cojones_."

Stifling a giggle at the woman's straightforwardness she felt like she had found someone closer to her way of thinking than the rest of the ship full of testosterone. It seemed that her hangover headache was beginning to leave after all.

R&R, tell me your thoughts. I know it's short. Any questions about anything, let me know! Hope you enjoyed :)


	14. Anger Management

**Chapter 14: Anger Management**

Disclaimer: I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_

_**Author's Note:**_ So it's time to bring up the rating, fortunately or unfortunately depending on what you want to read. I'm glad to hear old and new readers and that you're enjoying the updates. It's like I'm back from the dead, I know. But there's new material! And I guess that's what matters. Also, the main reason why I brought up the rating is because there is a mature portion with mature content, it's marked with the horizontal gray line if you don't want to read it. Hope you enjoy this new update and the other ones to come! ;)

**Human Nature **

by Quilapayuna

**Anger Management**

_1720, Isla de Muerta, Caribbean_

There was something about being on a ship during a storm that makes you lose your sea legs even if you were pretty tolerant against getting sea sick. It mainly comes from that unnatural sway of what's beneath your feet mixed along with the anxiety of possibly falling over. It's what freak most people out, no doubt. And being on deck while all the mayhap was in progress made things a lot worse. Iris almost fell overboard and when she felt a pair of arms that caught her before she completely fell to her doom, she was more than surprised to see that her rescuer possessed a pair of dark cobalt blue eyes.

Quietly and somewhat awkwardly, Iris voiced her thanks to the mysterious man and walked to be by Will's side who was eyeing her curiously. It wasn't till they viewed the island in sight that the storm began to subside. A strange shape of islands stood before them as they passed the questionable entrance that appeared to have claimed the lives of many souls prior. The ocean cemetery beneath them made Iris wonder what exactly she had gotten herself into. What was worse? Being on the current ship on her way to some ambiguous destination that she had no interest in or staying in Tortuga where she would have probably been raped or mugged or both sooner or later? Iris sighed heavily putting her face in her hands and thought why couldn't she just wake up from this dream or nightmare or whatever it was?

She thought about her life back at school that seemed so far back now, even if it had been a mere four days or so that she'd been in this time period. What would her mother think when she couldn't find her? Would she ever see a day past 2008? As the days and the events in them began to conglomerate into a whole, that possibility seemed more and more unlikely.

But perhaps what worried her the most, were the sensations she felt whenever water touched her skin, like during the storm and how each drop of water sent tingles down her spine. The voices that haunted her mind with words she couldn't understand; a language so guttural and unlike anything she knew. Iris feared something and that something wasn't as tangible as she would have appreciated it to be. She was afraid that something happened that night Frankie messed around with her little esoteric incantations but what's more, she was afraid that what she thought she had a grasp in understanding was false. Was there danger in believing that what you once thought to be true was actually false? Religions, deities…they were made by man to explain the unexplainable, to give people something worth living for, to create order among the ignorant and make everyone feel better about the unknown…right? That had been her opinion about religion and god since she could formulate a well thought-out opinion.

Iris feared her doubt. Did that give power to something greater, something she couldn't control? How would you even begin to explain a feeling like that? It was like when you watched a horror movie like Chucky or the Freddy Kruger series and then when you slept at night. Even if you weren't afraid of the movie, there was still a moment where the idea invaded your mind like a parasite and made you wonder..._what if?_

What if Chucky was under my bed this moment or Freddy Kruger in my closet?

And that single moment of curiosity would be enough to make you worry, make you hear your own heart pound in your ears, and that thought would be enough to instill fear for that moment…even if it wasn't real.

That's how Iris felt. All her life she thought she _knew _that humans made up God and the Devil, but since that night with Frankie in the pool with the psychedelic gothic visions, she was having second doubts_. _This was her 'what if' moment and it was instilling fear in her and the more she second-guessed herself, the more it scared her, and it was vicious cycle. She doubted herself because she was scared and because she was scared she doubted herself even more.

"Iris?" said Will grabbing her shoulder gently. "We're here." The smile on his face with such hope made her snap back to reality or at least one of her realities, she thought.

"Best of luck, Will. Get back safely," she said with a small smile sincerely but still with the fresh daze of her thoughts.

She watched as Jack and Will rowed off in a boat and rowed towards the cave. Looking at the open ocean in front of her, the water against the ship, colors between crystal green and light blues, the sky above them clearing up from the previous storm and she was here – in the Caribbean, in 1720.

"No pienses tanto," said a baritone voice next to her.

"I have a lot to think about, why wouldn't I_?" _Iris responded quietly. "What are _you_ doing so far away from…home?"

Slightly taken aback, the half indigenous man answered, "There's something I need to do so I can go home. How about you? Why are you here and not to mention, alone?"

"Honestly, I don't know…" she laughed at her situation. "But I can't get back home…it's too far."

"_Lejos?"_ he snorted at hearing that. "I'm from Aisén and that's almost as far as you can get. You can't possibly live that far."

Iris giving him a look said, "I live in New York."

"_Nueva York _is not that far…were you born there?"

"_Sí, _born and raised there," Iris confirmed and went on further add, "But my parents are Chilean."

"…and what else?" Juan asked expectantly.

Looking at him with an expression that showed she was slightly bothered by his question, "With Spanish, Scottish, English, French and who else knows…It's not like I know what my great great great _abuelita _did back in the day. But I'm a Chilean at heart and that's what matters, right?"

The man simply nodded and looked at her strangely. To him the girl was a mystery and very intriguing. There wasn't much that intrigued him, barely anything surprised him. But in his own culture, women did not speak unless given permission. The white man culture was not so oppressive with their women in that sense although they did oppress in other ways that among his people would be seen as unacceptable. To add to his social awkwardness, his interaction with women was extremely limited to that of his own mother and women he may have spoken to by the by. Never being someone of many words but of strong conviction, he kept to himself. His own ideas he hardly ever shared or spoke about. He did more listening and was convinced that by sending the right people the right message, they would stop interfering with his side of the world. He hardly had heart to hearts, and not that he was having one with this girl but it surprised him that he felt a lot more at ease with her. He felt…not judged. That feeling is what surprised and interested him the most.

"Your name is not Juan," said Iris flatly. She looked out and saw two people on the row boat coming back, one looked female and the other looked like Will. _Where's Jack?_

"No, my name is Pedro Ñancupel," he responded as she kept staring at the boat coming towards the ship. He saw no harm in telling her since he would be leaving the crew as soon as he found a way to board with another one. "Do you know where this ship will be going?"

"No, I don't actually. I'm lost as you on that. Do you want to stop somewhere specifically?"

"No," he murmured. For the moment he needed to hide, with the Spanish Armada on his tail he needed to camouflage in with different crews and change routes constantly. Sometimes he wondered what he was doing with his life but those thoughts left as quickly as they came. He could be working out in the fields out of obligation to some Spanish nobles, living in fear while a tenth of the little and nothing he would earn would go to Spanish government officials or he could be here living in exile while he tried to make a difference…_Was _he making a difference? Did chopping the head of a viceroy and murdering that viceroy's family make a difference? Would it free his people? …Or would his people suffer more because of his actions? Pedro tried not thinking about it. He refused to think it rash…even if on the inside he knew it may very well be.

_"…You should know, better than anyone, that they'll just replace him with another one…"_

The words of the Spanish pirate Villanueva resonated in his mind. How many would he have to kill before the Spanish nobles left, before they stopped exploiting their lands, before Europe tired of playing God?

"Welcome aboard, Miss Elizabeth," said Gibbs as a girl with blond hair climbed aboard the ship followed by the young man Pedro often saw Iris talking to.

"Mr. Gibbs?" questioned the girl named Elizabeth looking at him surprised though nowhere near surprised as how Iris was looking at Elizabeth.

Iris felt her head become light and her heart was beating at a rate that reminded her of when she was at the pool. Was she hallucinating? How was Frankie here? How did Will know her? Why was she being called Elizabeth?

Will climbed up and Gibbs asked for Jack Sparrow.

"Jack? Jack Sparrow?" asked the girl with a look of incredulousness.

"He fell behind," answered Will much to the disappointment of the rest of the crew who looked taken aback by that piece of information. Iris was still in shock to even process whatever was being said, she starred at the girl as if she were a ghost.

Snapping out of shock, Iris stormed towards the blond girl. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Will, who is she?" Elizabeth asked looking at Iris as if she were insane.

Becoming extremely angered by Frankie's attitude and her posh British accent, she violently grabbed the girl's arm shaking her roughly, "Don't play fucking stupid with me, Frankie! You have lot of explaining to do and you're gonna start talking now, bitch!"

Immediately becoming protective of Elizabeth, Will held onto Iris who seemed to not have any intentions of calming down. Iris was to the point where you could almost imagine the foam starting to seep through her mouth. "Yeah, go ahead and pretend like you don't fucking know me, Frankie! I should have beaten the shit out of you that night when I had the chance. I ought to cut you, bitch."

Elizabeth looked like she was about to pee her panties and the rest of the crew was holding on tight to Iris who was becoming more and more volatile, "Let me go you fuckers! Let the fuck go of me!"

If she had ever seen red in her life, then this was seeing scarlet because she felt rage beyond anything she'd ever felt before. Deeply hurt and betrayed, those were the only things she felt when it came to how Frankie had set up that whole psychological mind-game…one that ended up being a lot more dangerous than she was bargaining for. And now seeing her acting completely oblivious, pretending as if _she_ were the one who was insane raised a volatile rage inside of her.

"Have you gone mad?" Will was trying to contain her but it didn't do anything to calm her down. It wasn't until Iris felt a heavy splash of water on her body that she came to a complete stillness only to feel her eyes roll back into her skull and her body begin to fall into seizures.

Anamaria, who had been the one to throw a bucket of water at the fury possessed girl, picked Iris up. The girl had gone from jittering on the floor to fainting.

The crew just looked at one another while Anamaria shouted orders to Gibbs and the rest to get a move on. Elizabeth and Will were still slightly stunned and simply watched as Anamaria took Iris down to the galley.

Her skin felt like a torch had lightened it and was incredibly sensitive. She had difficulty breathing as she felt tightness around her body yet her eyes weren't opening to see what was going on.

_'I told you we'd meet again…'_

It was the same deep baritone voice that she had previously encountered in her other dreams. Like something had been lifted from her eyes, all of a sudden she could open them. Her senses were becoming overwhelmed with everything she was taking in. She wasn't sure where she was exactly but it looked unlike anything she'd seen before. It was similar to a Cathedral except much darker, with mosaic images of horrifying acts and a light that seemed more like fire illuminating rather than daylight. She was sitting on her knees, on top of what looked like a hieroglyphic circle, while the rest of the floor looked like it was covered with a sticky black tar-like substance. Before her stood the same figure from the other dreams; he was in a white suit, but this time he had the jacket open with no shirt underneath. She made out tattoos that were zig-zag shapes running from his collarbone down to his chest. His face, she made out, looked like a man in his mid 50s. His eyes were a piercing light blue with reddish bags underneath them. He looked so pale he must have never been out in daylight. His hair was a darkish blond in somewhat of a buzz cut. All in all, although he may have passed as your average Joe physically, his demeanor was what held attraction. Just his eyes on her made her warm all over.

He smiled a pearly white smile at her. _'Iris, Iris, love having you down her, darling.'_

She became extremely self-conscious under his gaze. Looking down at herself she made out the corset that was making it difficult to breath. It was skin tight, a slick black color…something that reminded her of dominatrix. She also made out that it was _all_ she was wearing. Iris felt that if she took a deeper breath her boobs would pop-out of the oppressing garment. The figure before her was enjoying the view.

_'Your friend's out there you know'_ He rose from the throne he was sitting on. His feet and the bottom of his pants becoming tainted with the black substance as he walked towards her and crossed into her circle.

Without moving her mouth she spoke through her thoughts, _'I saw her.'_

Chuckling with a hint of malice he informed the girl before him. _'That's not her…but you'll see her soon…'_

He was now touching her cheek which made all of her body tremble. It was something inexplicable to define. She felt both afraid and heated by his touch and he seemed to know it. Iris couldn't resist moaning as he caressed her face and instinctively rubbed her cheek against his pale hands. She felt as if in a daze of pleasure, her thighs were becoming slick with moisture. He bent down to her level caressing the upper part of her mounds that were obnoxiously propped for his view. His touch was driving her crazy and instinctively her legs parted, panty-less and dripping with her desire. With a single finger he ran down the side of her body down her leg and reached between her legs to only do as much as pick-up some moisture from beneath her thighs. Iris becoming weak at the feel of his touch gasped and leaned on him for support as she convulsed in ecstasy and the further she leaned into him without him even touching her she screamed in pleasure over and over until she thought it would never stop and she would surely die from how wonderful it was. If this was temptation then she would gladly fall for it. It was driving her insane.

While the girl who was lying against him kept reaching incredible climaxes over and over again, he tasted the sample on his finger. Savoring the flavor on his lips, the virginal desire was delectable enough to want him to keep her with him there and drink from her forever. That sweet taste like ripe fruit, the taste of daylight…

But he couldn't, he needed her for something else. Unfortunately, this one didn't belong to him…at least not yet.

Growling in her ear as she whimpered her last tired orgasm, he simply said, _'Stop.'_ And as if a wave of realization hit her, she felt a deep feeling of shame as she looked up at Satan himself grinning at her. She followed his line of sight to see the rather large pool of moisture she had formed beneath her. Gently touching her hair, he whispered, _'Just like Eve when she gave herself to me.'_ The breath against her ear was enough to heat her all over, her shame once again forgotten.

_'As much as I would like to make you my Persephone and keep you here…you need to go back…'_

Grabbing her arms and holding her against him, his piercing electric blue eyes looked into her hazy green ones, _'Stay alive.'_

Jolting from the bench and gasping for air, Iris saw Anamaria looking down at her. "What happened?"

"You passed out." The mulatta eyed her with concern. "_Mi hija_, you can't get so angry."

Her head felt like it was going to burst from pain. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have gotten so mad."

"Is she alright?" questioned Will from the doorway, peering in to see how Iris was doing.

Propping herself on her elbows she looked at Will and could make out a girl with blond hair behind him. Calmly, Iris requested, "Can I see Elizabeth, please? I promise I won't do anything to her."

Hesitantly, Will grabbed Elizabeth's hand and brought her close enough for Iris to see. Taking in the appearance of Elizabeth she swore they could be twins but there were clear differences. Physically, her hair was longer than Frankie's but what made it clear it couldn't be her was the lack of the cut that ran down Frankie's lower lip. This girl also seemed less…corrupted. Frankie was no innocent and it was a vibe that this girl didn't give at all.

"I'm sorry," apologized Iris, rubbing her aching head. "You look like someone I know…you could be her twin, I swear. I'm sorry if I scared you…"

Elizabeth looking at the girl with slight reservation, she shaking she said, "No need for apologies, it was just a misunderstanding." Smiling she said, "I just wonder what she did to win your animosity."

"Nothing nice, that I can tell you," she sneered thinking about her treacherous friend.

"Anamaria, Barbossa is gaining on us," reported Will, now seeing that Iris was alright. Quick to run out of the galley, Anamaria went to give orders on deck.

Both Elizabeth and Will followed behind as Pedro brushed past both of them. Iris grinned at Pedro asking, "And what are you doing here, _hueon_?"

Chuckling at the impertinent girl he responded, "Making sure you don't have another temper tantrum. You turned out to be quite the _fire-match_."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing…"

"Depends on the situation," he offered honestly.

Looking at the girl who seemed to have calmed down immensely since a few moments ago he asked her without any reservations, "What exactly happened?"

Iris rubbed her face with her hands, "I thought she was someone I knew…someone who I'm not happy with."

"No, that much was obvious," snorted Pedro.

Slightly bothered by his attitude that reminded her of her wise-ass father, she asked demandingly, "Are you gonna help me stand up,_ hueon_ or are you just going to stand there?"

Pulling her outstretched arm none too gently, Iris gave him a warning look. Letting Iris walk in front of him and climb up on deck, Pedro noticed a bright coin stringed onto a chain. So this was what the old man Gibbs had been talking to the boy William. A medallion that had left an entire crew cursed… Pedro wasn't much for superstitions though he did know much about the spiritual world; his own people being extremely tied to the earth and always emphasizing the balances of nature. He wasn't surprised that a tribe from up north in the Americas would have gone through the trouble of creating a curse of that sort. With the European vultures circling the New World, it served them right. This could come in handy and from what things seemed like, the fox-like pirate Jack seemed to have an art for manipulating things in his favor.

Smirking, Pedro thought, _'Looks like things might just backfire for Captain Sparrow…'_

The half-indigenous pirate took one last look at the coin before dropping it into his pocket. It would come in handy at some point, especially now that the infamous _Black Pearl_ was more than likely to gain on them and leave them no other choice but to fight.

Iris leaned forward on the rail of the ship as everyone was running frenzy about the _Black Pearl _gaining on them. She was still a bit shaken from her dream and not to mention feeling a part of her somewhat violated. Being from the 21st century and finding nothing wrong in sex made Iris obviously open minded about such things. But talking about sex in theory wasn't like having a sexual experience first-hand…even if nothing of gravity actually happened.

_'No, nothing serious, you just came all over yourself in front of the Devil and screamed like a banshee about it…people don't have orgasms by just leaning on someone, Iris.'_

She was 17 and nearing 18 years of age and of course it was only natural for hormones to take over and for her to have heated dreams once in a while or even have fantasies about other boys from time to time…but she wasn't precisely prepared for _this_.

She was always so concentrated on other things like school, politics and academia that romance, sex and dating didn't exactly fit into her planning of things. In 2008, Iris was a girl who was reserved, but not shy to express her opinion. She was a cynic and treated the world around her in a way that avoided her from getting hurt. It was one of the reasons Frankie's betrayal injured her the most. She never opened up but when she did, she expected for people to handle her feelings like they would their own. It also was a reason why she didn't date or even bothered to look for potential 'suitors'. Self-conscious of her figure and feeling less than adequate compared to other girls her age, that fit in better with the generation's standards of beauty, Iris ignored that part of human development. She always tried convincing herself, 'you'll have time to grow socially and work on relationships when you're done with grad school.' But she knew deep down inside that it was avoiding something that scared her to no end. Whereas she knew the strategies to get a good grade, to work her way up in a career…relationships of the emotional kind weren't as straight-forward. Feelings were highly illogical and that was something she had trouble with because trying to reason things out made her feel safe so she could categorize the world. But love and desire and all that stuff just made her really anxious. She didn't know how to deal with those sorts of things.

Recalling her dream of Lucifer made her tremble with delight. The thing that separated the dreams she had been having as of late and the dreams usually had, was the sharpness and the feelings that she had when she looked back in retrospect. The dreams were connected to each other and although she considered her mind quite fertile, she wasn't one to have sequential dreams with made up characters. Just thinking that she had some sort of sexual intimacy with Satan himself scared her. What did that mean? Was she a bad person for it? If she wasn't religious, why did it matter? _'Well precisely because this _is_ happening proves your ideas of God and the Devil wrong.'_

_'Stay alive'_

Lucifer's words echoed in her mind. If there were any words of wisdom in what he said, those were it. Watching everyone in front of her scurrying to survive against the inevitable battle against the _Pearl_, Iris made her way to Anamaria.

"Anamaria, what's happening?"

"We're going to have to fight, Iris. Load the canons with everything and anything!"

Iris began searching for things that the others dropped in their rush, to load the canons with, Elizabeth seemed to have taken a role of authority as well which Iris thought amusing.

The crew was loading the canons with everything from silverware to glass vases to empty rum bottles. Iris helped with equal frenzy becoming nervous that she might just not survive this without any fighting skills what so ever. Her fears felt more proven when the ship made a harsh turn that pulled her to the other side of the ship, nearly stabbing herself with a fork.

Remembering that all her things were on deck, just when the canon shots began, Iris ran up to find that the pirates from the other ship were beginning to swing over. She nervously searched for her messenger backpack and her plastic bag. Thinking quickly in case she had to jump out of the ship or something of that sort, she stuck her backpack into the plastic bag but not before pulling out her pepper spray. Hell, if she couldn't fight, she could at least defend herself. If she had never used the spray in late night NYC, she might as well use it now.

Speaking of which, a rather rotting looking pirate was about to stab her when she aimed at his eyes and sprayed.

"AHHHHH! BLOODY HELL, MY EYES!" screamed the pirate in agony. Well, it had worked at least. She ran avoiding anyone as much as possible but it was difficult with a bag in her hand and nothing but pepper spray to fight back with.

She saw Will run down into the galley; he looked like he was searching for something. She was about the call for Pedro when she saw him swing onto the other ship. Elizabeth looked like she needed help and right when a pirate was about to hit her from the back, Iris spray his eyes as well. Looking relieved that it was Iris, Elizabeth continued fighting.

When a golden grin came to her eye level, both Iris and Elizabeth were surprised to see Jack Sparrow appear…alive.

"Where's the medallion?" he asked Elizabeth.

Raising her hand to strike him, Jack grabbed her hand, "Ah, where is dear William?"

Elizabeth realizing that Will still hadn't returned, ran to go look for him. Jack looked at Iris and the bag in her hands. "You're still alive," he said surprised as if she has grown a third head.

"Let's just say I was told I had to."

"Good advice if I may say so meself. You haven't seen the medallion by any –"

He was cut off by the loud declaration of Barbossa, "Gents our hope is restored!" The golden medallion was held up in his hand and…Pedro right next to him.

Not believing what her eyes saw Iris barely croaked out, "Why?" She was unable to process what Pedro had just done. What _had_ he done?

Elizabeth was doing everything possible to lift the grate open but it wouldn't budge. Unfortunately, they were all taken aboard the _Black Pearl_ having to leave William behind.

Then Barbossa's men brought over gun powder, no doubt to blow up the _Interceptor_.

As soon as she stepped foot on the _Pearl_ and saw Pedro she began to go on a rant in Spanish, "You fucking coward! How could you, _hijo de puta?_ You would sell your own mother wouldn't you, you bastard? Congratulations, you're the first one to give out the _payment of Chile_, motherfucker. Fucking happy now, aren't you?"

Avoiding her gaze and looking anywhere but at Iris, he stood emotionless. He needed to do what he had to do. He didn't owe anyone favors. Barbossa kept looking back at him as he heard the girl scream in what he could only imagine were not so nice words in Spanish. It wasn't until one of the crew men banged her into a post and told her to shut up that she did.

Elizabeth was loosening herself from the ropes already. She looked so eager to jump out of the ship to get Will. Successfully freeing herself she screamed in shock as the rest of them looked how the _Interceptor,_ with Will in it, blew up. Iris began welling up tears in her eyes. She barely knew Will but he was the first decent person to treat her like a human being in this century and now he was gone.

The blond girl reacted differently attacking at Barbossa's back in which he easily man-handled her, "Welcome back, Miss. You took advantage of our hospitality last time. It holds fair now you return the favor." He pushed her to his crew who were more than glad to man-handle her further.

And as if the emotional roller coaster weren't bad enough today, there was Will standing on the rail of the_ Black Pearl_. Everyone stopped for that moment and Barbossa looking highly confused at Will's daringness asked, "What's in yer head boy?"

Will was aiming the gun at himself while Jack tried to convince Barbossa that Will was no one of importance. It was of little use since Will soundly declared his connection to Bootstrap Bill and making it obvious that he was the one they needed to lift the curse.

Seeing how there wasn't much he could do, Barbossa asked him to name his terms.

"Elizabeth goes free!"

"Yes, we know that one, anything else?"

Will looking at Iris, quickly added, "Iris goes free and the crew are not to be harmed." Jack in the background pleaded for Will to remember him as well. Obviously, Will wasn't feeling that gracious towards the pirate Captain after everything.

"_Agreeeed_" drawled out Barbossa. Except that pirates being tricky by nature, would take advantage of any flaws of a request. Much like Faust's dealing with the devil. Iris almost snorted at her own dealings with Lucifer that seemed a lot better than the situation she was in at the moment.

So of course when they began to force Elizabeth to walk the plank she could only imagine she would be next. Iris now understood the meaning of the abbreviation, FML. She was in complete legitimate reason to say it out loud, "Fuck my life."

Will already held by the crew was enraged by the prospects to follow, "Barbossa, you lying bastard! You swore she'd go free!"

"Don't dare impugn me honor, boy. I agreed she'd go free but it was you who failed to specify when or where."

Gagging Will, Elizabeth was left to the fate of the plank as Barbossa requested the dress he had given her back.

Iris looked at Jack who was still trying to fall into Barbossa's good graces. Elizabeth was having trouble jumping into the water and so one of the larger pirates "helped" her by stomping on the plank. She automatically fell in.

Barbossa looking at Iris now grinned that half rotten grin, "It's your turn, Miss or should I say _señorita_?"

The crew dragged her onto the plank as Pedro looked at her with eyes that revealed his own concern even if the rest of his demeanor was completely indifferent.

Looking at the plank and looking at her things that had been taken by the pudgy balding pirate and the half-blind one, she asked with a bit of hope, "Can I take my things with me?"

Barbossa looking at the bag and then at her, "Wasn't part of the terms now was it, miss?"

"Motherfucker," she muttered loud enough for him to hear as she hesitated to jump off the plank. What if something weird happen when she hit the water? It seemed that every time she made some sort of contact with water shit happened. Seeing no way out, she imagined jumping off the diving board at the pool. What else was she going to do about it?

At first everything seemed fine. She kept her eyes shut in attempt to not lose her contact lenses that she had only removed once when she took a bath in Tortuga. If she lost them, she would be screwed, no doubt. Once her head was out of the surface she wiped her eyes from the salty water. She felt really weak but was managing to swim a little even if it appeared lethargic and would take a good amount of time till she reached the shore of the small island in front.

Meanwhile, Pedro felt heaviness in his chest that could only be called guilt. On impulse, he swiftly took Iris's bag from the half-blind pirate, Ragetti and threw it with as much force as possible towards the direction Iris and Elizabeth were swimming towards.

Barbossa taking his sword out and pointing it towards Pedro's neck and threatened, "I have no use for you any longer. I should just kill ya now for defying my orders but, seeing how I'm in a gracious mood today…you can walk the plank with Jack."

Throwing Pedro his belt with his sword, he added, "Consider that repayment for the medallion." Taking his things quickly, Pedro jumped without as much as a word, after all he knew when he was in a lost situation and now he would have to get back on track one more.

Elizabeth had already made it to shore but Iris was still having trouble. She had swam towards the bag and using it as support she tried floating on it. Unfortunately, it kept sinking in. Pedro speedily swam to her aid to which Iris loudly protested to, even in her feeble state. "Go to hell, Pedro. Fuck off," she croaked as she continued towards shore on her own. Angered by her reaction, he swam off towards alone. If she wanted to drown that was her problem.

Iris's vision was becoming blurry and she was having trouble breathing. She was hearing the strange sounds again and any minute now she was going to pass out.

"Need help there, luv?" asked a voice behind her. She knew it was Jack. Smiling sadly, she uttered, "Still cargo, eh?"

Looking at her in slight concern, he said, "Don't be silly, luv." He urged her to untie the ropes from his wrists. She tried to move her fingers but every time she touched his skin by accident she felt jolts through her body. Finally untying the rope, Jack gave her his belt and pistol to hold with her bag while he grabbed hold of her to swim her back to shore. The moment Jack touched Iris, she screamed.

At first Jack thought she might be hurt, but when she screamed again as he pressed her against him he realized they sounded like…she was enjoying herself. He didn't have much time to think anything of it because she fainted and was now dead weight that he had to carry ashore with the stupid bag that weighed a ton _and_ his pistol. _'Bugger, bugger, bugger…'_ was all he could think as he made it to shore swimming like a dog.

Elizabeth seeing Jack with Iris quickly ran to help him carry her. The girl was breathing but very little.

"Iris! Iris!" the blond girl smacked Iris trying to get her to respond.

"Move aside," said Jack as he bent over the unresponsive girl. "You'd think after that little corset incident you'd learn."

Elizabeth just rolled her eyes as Pedro walked towards them and they both watched as Jack pumped Iris's chest. Jumping up with eyes wide open and spitting out water from her mouth, she gasped as she looked at the very confused looking expressions hovering over her.

Falling into exhaustion, Iris mumbled, "Wake me up when it's over."

The three of them looked at each other not knowing what to make of it all. With an air of uncertainty, they sat back and watched the small ship on the horizon sail away.

So my grammar probably sucks, I'm not gonna lie. I had a beta reader at one point but since I sort of hibernated for like 3 or 4 years, I think I may have to find a new one. Hope you enjoyed. I know there seems to be too many things happening to quickly but remember, the calm comes after the storm. R&R!

**Some translations and cultural notes:**

_No pienses tanto – _don't think so much  
_  
lejos – _far__

abuelita – grandma__

Mi hija – depending on the context, means something like girlfriend or woman. An example would be "what's wrong with you, woman?" Is often said from one female to another. If a man says it, the meaning becomes literal "my daughter" and tends to be said of man that's older to a younger woman in a form of affection.  
_  
hueon – _Derives from the verb huevear which means to annoy or "fucking around" or being lazy. It is properly written in its substantive form as, huevón (pronounced weón). It is used in many ways and can be conjugated nearly infinitely (think how you can technically use "fuck" as a verb, adjective, adverb and noun). The meaning can range from stupid to lazy depending on who's using it. For example, in Mexico and Spain huevón is usually only used in its substantive form to call someone lazy, think of couch potato or lazy as fuck. However because Iris and Pedro are Chilean, the meaning in Chile usually ranges from stupid to dumb to annoying but in its substantive form is the equivalent to "dude" in American English (but with a ruder connotation). Of course I can't say it's completely historically accurate that Pedro would understand (although some Chileans jest that the word "huevón" has been used since the Romans). Can't trust that that is the best reference, but for the sake of writing fiction, humor me. There will be more uses of "hueon" in the future which will be further explained

_Hijo de puta – _Literally meaning son of a whore but can be seen as "son of a bitch" in English.

_Payment of Chile –_ Known in Spanish as "pago de Chile," to receive the payment of Chile refers to a specific behavior of ingratitude towards someone or someones who helped you in the past or have given you an advantageous service of some sort. This ingratitude can be simple indifference or straight out hostility to the point of punishing the person or persons who helped you. The terms come from when the founding father of Chile, Bernardo O'Higgins did so much for the independence of Chile, only to later be forced into exile by his own people. Think about it this way, what would it have looked like if Americans had kicked George Washington out of their country after everything he did? It's a term you could say that isn't all that special; it's similar to the Mob of Rome and even the saying that when it comes to political candidates Americans are "quick to like and quick to judge", except, receiving payment of Chile probably refers to receiving, more often than not, a messed up form of ungratefulness. Pirates tend to give out this sort of payment all the time it seems.


	15. Stuck in Paradise

**Chapter 15: Stuck in Paradise**

**Author's Note:**

***IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THIS RANT GO STRAIGHT AHEAD TO "STORY START" SECTION***

Hey guys! I'm glad most of you guys are enjoying the story thus far. I just wanted to make a few comments about the Prologue entry which was written way back when.

I start off in the Prologue talking about a certain issue: the Mary-Sue labeling. It's come to my attention that there are some things I would like to clear up for everyone regarding about that note. My intention is never to say that I prefer a Mary Sue to a Non-Mary Sue or that there isn't any merit in writing a Non-Mary Sue. Of course not! That's what we all inevitably strive for – writing a character that's agreeable to the majority of readers and that we can relate to on a certain level. Making a realistic character isn't something I discriminate against. When I said that, "No one wants to hear things that you _already_ deal with and know how to relate with" it wasn't worded in the best way, looking at it a whole bunch of years later. I meant to defend the creative process of creating character that isn't as familiar to us as you and I. A character that deals with situations and acts in a way that maybe isn't as conventional or expected. But my point comes down to bashing Mary Sue characters and how I feel in regards to that. Bashing is not constructive in any way. Calling someone's character a "Mary Sue" and then walking away seems extremely irresponsible to me. It's an empty criticism that provides nothing for the writer to work off or improve on. Ultimately, it's just an insult. I think we should all definitely strive to get away from producing a character that is too perfect and too predictable and all the other characteristics that build up a Mary Sue but it's a process. It's a process of trial and error and really about maturing in that writing method.

When I wrote that Prologue (about 7 years ago) I was beginning to write fanfics and my writing wasn't very good and character development wasn't my strong point so when I wrote my first fanfic I thought was a place where writers helped each other out and reviews were meant mainly criticize in a constructive way for writers to improve. Instead, what I received were many bashing comments with this Mary Sue label that I didn't understand at first until I looked up for myself. It's easy to criticize something and wash your hands from the responsibility of helping your fellow colleagues. Remember, is a haven for writers who enjoy fandom but who are also working on their writing skills. It's not published work, guys. Take it easy on the criticism. We aren't _New York Times_ bestsellers.

I bring this issue up because of an anonymous review I received. That's also something that bothers me about anonymous reviews. Usually I don't mind at all if you're too lazy to login or if you've provided a pen-name for yourself or an e-mail address then I feel like there is someone to direct a reply to if they've left a comment or a question that can be cleared. However, when you just leave a review as is "anonymous" it makes me feel uncomfortable, especially if the review says something in a snippy tone or has nothing constructive to say because it looks a bit cowardly if you didn't know any better – not taking responsibility for what you say. I delete reviews like these, if you'd like to re-post please sign in or leave a pen-name/email address. I will however use your review as an example since I think it's an excellent opportunity and a comment worth discussing.

"_Frankly, I have to question the intelligence of anyone who would be attracted to reading that kind of story."_

I understand the point of the comment and why you wouldn't want to read a Mary Sue but at the same time I wonder if any of us have felt less intelligent for enjoying Cinderella or any Disney movie for that matter. The Mary Sue character is after all "always get things her/his way. Everyone loves her/him except people who are pure evil and/or jealous of other/his perfection." I think we look at a Disney princess and there needs to be a challenge for the sake of plot but you can say that most of those characters get their way. Or if we look at an anime like Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z, the protagonists while having to face the obvious problem of saving the world, is ultimately loved by everyone and gets their way. In DBZ, I never liked Goku, probably because you could say that he was a Mary Sue but I can't say that others who did like him were wrong to do so. I never liked Serena from Sailor Moon either probably for the same reason, but once again I can't say that someone is more or less intelligent for liking her. [Interestingly enough, the only flaw these two characters had was a lack of intelligence on the day to day basis]. We also need to point out that sometimes character development isn't nearly as important as plot development (depending on the story of course). Usually in literature you want to see both but there are cases where you don't. An easier example for me to point out is in film (because of how short they usually are, you kind of have to pick and choose). It's one of the arguments many have about the difference between a Hollywood film and an indie film. The trend tends to be that Hollywood films focus a lot more on plot and leave much to be desired in character development where as I feel that indie films focus so much on character development and making each persona clear to the viewer that a lot of the time the content and the plot is lost on you. Taking this all into consideration, do I think Iris is a Mary Sue? I don't think Iris is a Mary Sue. I think she could have easily been made into one considering the plot where time-traveling is concerned but so far I think Iris is pretty average for the most part with the exception that she may have some ideas that aren't conventional, but which aren't exactly giving her aid in the 18th Century. I think she's quite human and while we can relate to her, it's exciting to see her in an adventure that isn't as ordinary as what we would expect in the cannon of literature. This is why I feel that things aren't as black and white when it comes to character development. "_What it comes down to is this: either it's a Mary Sue, or it's not." _I don't think the creating of a character is that clear cut in reality because I often feel that some characters are honestly bordering on being and not being on the Mary Sue line. Sometimes there are characters that are a paradox and it works out because of the plot line, you know? If you have a plot where even the perfect character isn't at an advantage then you might get away with having a Mary Sue. Ultimately, I feel that people use this term (rather flawed in what it encompasses) lightly since having a protagonist you can't stand takes different problems within the story (on the plot level and also on the character level). It's more constructive to shed light on each of the problems with the story in its entirety rather than throw it into a category and turn your back on it.

***STORY START***

**Human Nature**

by Quilapayuna

**Stuck in Paradise**

_1720, Small Island in the middle of the Caribbean_

How many opportunities at life do you get? Have you even woken up one morning and asked yourself, 'What am I doing with my life?'

For a teenager it might sound exaggerated. Who doesn't recall those years where something as a small argument seemed tragic and each and every emotion was a burst of feeling? Every single moment is either extremely intense or painfully dull. Iris knew that she was different from her peers in that she tried always to reason what she felt. When she felt nervous to death, she would think to herself and say, tomorrow you won't feel the same way. If she liked a boy and even though it felt like her heart would explode, she would think – a year from now this will be laughable.

_'I just jumped off a ship'_

Trying to weigh out the gravity of the situation was difficult because of the nature of those surrounding her. Usually when the circumstances are dangerous...those around you have an air of sobriety about things. Not that pirates weren't scary...it just seemed that rather than truly panicking or feeling threatened, people were handling it somewhat too lightly.

Nearly drowning was something to worry about...or had she drowned?

Opening her eyes, Iris looked at the sky, a strange blue, an unrealistic blue. I seemed like something out of a dream, a violet grayish coloring but the way the clouds moved suggested it should be sunny. And underneath her, she felt something wet and lush...Looking to her side she saw green blades of grass. A meadow full of it followed by plains of wheat. She felt warm and even the breeze was welcoming.

_'Where am I?'_

_'Paradise'_ answered the familiar baritone voice that haunted her dreams. Lucifer laid to her left wearing his pristine white suit while looking up at the clouds just like she was.

_'Am I dead?'_ she asked through her mind.

Chuckling at her question, he answered her without speaking, '_Not yet.'_

It was strange, really. Every time she fell into these dreams with him, it was somehow different. At first she remembered things as a third person observer and gradually the dreams became more personal. _She_ was the one in the dream, not a doppelganger...it made the situation so much more memorable and real to her when she woke up.

_'It's because the more you go under, the more connected to this world you become,' _stated the voice, clearly reading her thoughts whether she meant to vocalize it or not.

_'More under?'_

_'The ritual connects you to me...through water...'_

Frankie came to mind when she thought about that piece of information. What did that ultimately mean for her?

A smirk grazed over the lips of Satan, but he didn't answer and it seemed he didn't want to either.

_'Why are we in paradise?'_ Iris directed her question to the Dark Lord.

_'Sulfur and fire is all good but...I like taking a break from it once in a while...'_

_'Are we allowed here?..Are _you_ allowed here?'_

'_I should be...I look over it...'_

Stunned at that Iris lifted herself to a seated position, and looked down at the deathly pale middle aged man. His eyes were closed, he looked...at peace.

Grinning his pearly whites he said, _'Didn't think that would be down here, huh?'_ He opened his eyes, the reddish bags them made him look like he had been overworked for a very long time. _'The Greeks had it right with Elysium.'_

_'I thought paradise was-'_

_'...in _heaven_?'_ he interrupted her, hissing the word as if it were the most foul thing in the universe. _'No, heaven and paradise aren't the same,' _he snapped but was quick to regain his composure and calmly added, '_Elysium's always been down here.'_

Iris looked at the fields that seemed endless, the hills of bluish-green, the sky a surreal blue and the feeling of complete tranquility. _'This place is beautiful...'_

_'_He_ thinks it's tainted,'_ he added unexpectedly._ 'Which is why it ended up here after...the fall..."_

_'Who stays here?'_

_'Those who are in Hell...for the wrong reasons...euthanasia, the unfaithful...or anyone who _He_ doesn't like...or want at that moment..'_

_'Doesn't sound very...God-like...'_

Stifling an exaggerated chuckle, Satan's mischievous grin disappeared as he suddenly stood up so quickly she hardly had time to move aside. From what appeared to come from his right pocket he pulled out a half opened fruit, ripe with juicy ruby buds that suddenly looked very familiar.

With a smirk he gazed into her eyes with his own electric blue that were surrounded by red around the whites. He raised the fruit towards her without breaking eye contact and offered, _'Pomegranate?'_

And then all of a sudden, as if she had been sucked in threw some warp, she felt like vomiting. As soon as her eyes focused on three faces hovering over her, she spat the salty water from her mouth and stomach. The faces were becoming blurry as her eyelids betrayed her and she slowly felt herself give into the arms of Morpheus. This time, as she ran her hand through the grains of sand beneath her, she had the feeling it would be the peaceful darkness of slumber. "Wake me up when it's over."

Jack sat on the shore watching how for a second time his nemesis sailed away with his ship. Elizabeth walked off to take a better look at the island...and to calm her own nerves. Pedro did the same, tagging along behind her a few feet.

Iris laid on the sand asleep. Jack looked over at her body that was still except for the rise and fall of her chest. He looked down at his pistol and wondered how was it that he ended up on the same bloody stupid island, in the same predicament for a second time.

'_Bloody stupid Will...'_ was the first thing that came to mind. There was always a catch when being a pirate. Jack Sparrow knew that awfully well. He supposed to an extent he couldn't complain, his life as a pirate had been comparably easier to many of his fellow pirates, he was lucky as a pirate. But he was rather unlucky as simply a person...at life in general. He tried not to look at it that way in retrospect. He hardly ever fancied another life than the one he lived. Born into piracy through his father and raised to learn how to cheat the system and find the loop holes, so to speak, he couldn't bring himself even to imagine what his life could have been like otherwise. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. When he had been given the offer to _legally_ sail the seas as much as he wanted, everything went downhill. The East India Company held a high control of what came and went almost on every single ocean, depending on what side you were on, you could easily find yourself pardoned but if you weren't with them...it was nearly impossible to stay honest and true on the seas. There were simply somethings he did not agree with in regard to the system, and he wasn't willing to sell himself. He wasn't a martyr – certainly, and although he didn't consider himself an idealist, he did hold true to his beliefs – as twisted as they appeared to others.

And right now, ideas of another life had no fit in his destiny, he wanted the _Pearl_ back and he would let fate take him on whatever lied next.

Finishing that thought he heard a soft moan behind him. Iris was stirring from her nap. Sparrow was still intrigued how the girl had managed to survive thus far. But more importantly, _who_ was she?

"I feel like I'm burning," she whined softly as she stood up and began to walk towards him. He looked up at her as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked...tender. Her eyes were small with sleep her lips swollen from the heat along with blushed cheeks.

Jack simply watched as she went towards the water and paused as if thinking twice about going near it. She turned around and sat next to him.

"You know, I know people who would give anything to have their own private island in the Caribbean all to themselves...would call it paradise even."

Jack simply gave her look. He could hardly have the same opinion after being stuck on the bloody spit of land...again.

Iris was now staring at Elizabeth who was walking towards them, concentrated on the footprints before her.

"It's really not all that big, is it?" said Jack as he continued drying off his pistol and the one shot. Elizabeth looked convinced that the shot would be for her.

"If you are going to shoot me, please do so without delay."

Jack just paused and asked, "Is there a problem between us, Miss Swann?"

Iris watched the exchange, noticing the vicious look on Elizabeth's face. "You were going to tell Barbossa about Will in exchange for a ship?"

"We could use a ship," he retorted harshly and added, "The fact was that I _wasn't_ going to tell Barbossa about bloody Will in exchange for a ship because as long as he didn't know about bloody Will, I had something to bargain with which now no one has..._Thanks_ to bloody stupid Will."

Elizabeth looked down somewhat sheepishly and could only say, "Oh."

Jack didn't pass the opportunity to imitate her, "Oh."

Pedro was also walking in their direction, gazing over at Iris. Elizabeth continued on bickering with Jack, the two of them stomping off into the shade.

Iris just looked at the unlimited sea in front of her. She felt overheated and would have done anything to bath in the water...but she already knew that _that_ wasn't an option. Why her, she wondered. She thought back on the dream back in Elysium with Lucifer. She found it strange that she left one paradise to be dropped into another one. When she was a child she had always assumed paradise would be like something out of a Caribbean travel pamphlet. This place, as isolated as it was, was no less disappointing with its breath taking beauty but it was difficult to linger on the positive side of being stranded when there was food and water to be concerned with. They were all in a rush to leave paradise. It was all so stirring, so much commotion in her head made her brain want to explode. It was all too much to process. What did these dreams mean? What did it say about her that she kept having these strange and rather intimate conversations with the Devil? Paradise in Hell? The Greeks didn't exactly have the same connotation of the Underworld like those who believed in Hell. Even then, she felt Lucifer's word strangely echo in her head, his resentments towards God were blatant. It left her questioning what God was like... It also made her think about how confusing the division between Paradise and Hell was. There was still Paradise for those who didn't quite make it to Heaven...and Hell for those who really did deserve it...and it seemed like Heaven was sort of like, you needed VIP status to get in. Interesting...but it still made her head hurt. Iris had never dedicated so much time to thinking about religion...or anything spiritual for that matter.

She felt someone sit next to her and turning to her left she made contact with deep blue eyes that looked endless, a blue abyss. It was difficult to want to speak to someone who pretty much pushed this entire situation to happen. Iris was still somewhat surprised that Jack hadn't tried to place the majority of the blame on Pedro. Although, Pedro had simply given them something they would have gotten back either way because they knew about it to begin with...unlike Will who sort of blew it by revealing himself and his true identity.

"You've got nerve to be coming near me after what you did."

"Did you honestly expect anything more?" he retorted quickly, making Iris's eyes widen. "Why should I care for any of these people? I did what I had to."

"Your plan was to get stranded on an island?"

He shrugged indifferently, "This is just a...detour."

Iris looked out at the ocean, her face slowly turning into a scowl. She finally asked him, "_What _is it that you have to do?"

Pedro looked at his hands, his boots at his side, he felt the warmth of the sand beneath his toes and the sun on his head burning steadily. Looking into Iris's ever-changing green eyes, he began in Spanish, _"I need to free us."_

"_Free who?"_ asked Iris innocently. She had observed Pedro before, his speech, the anger often directed towards Europeans. There was a clear amount of resentment there.

"_Ever since they have invaded us, here, our side of the world, taking without remorse we have succumbed our lives, our futures to these thieves and exploiters. And yet, what have we done?"_ his words filled with a reflective somberness that all of a sudden made the moment of being isolated from the world more meaningful. _"We have been silent...a silence that closely resembles stupidity."_

Iris looked at her hands, looking at the line on her palm and turning them to see the tan on her skin. She realized that what he was saying was something a lot more complicated and certainly much deeper to the ways of this man than that of a pirate...or at least compared to the pirates she had met thus far.

She understood him, what was there to say? More than anything she wanted to say that back in 2008 those same feelings were shared by more than just a few. Did she have an opinion? Oh course, how could she not? Her parents being immigrants from Chile, she knew the stories and understood the resentment that was impossible to extinguish. She and many other Hispanics here in 1720 like in 2008 were nothing more than the direct product of the largest rape in history. Forever, Latin America remained violated since the conquest of Spain to the present-day manipulative Washington ran institutions, like the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.

"_So how are you going to stop it?" _she asked with quiet curiosity.

"_I've...eliminated the current viceroy of my territory..."_ he said softly. _"King Philip is next."_

"_That won't solve anything..." _she said sighing. "_Killing figures of authority will just be a pause in the problem. They'll just find someone else to fill in the spot and then the repercussions will be far worse for you...and especially those who you want to help."_

"_Then how do you stop them?"_ he spat his arms tensing the muscles beneath.

"_Change," _she said simply. _"Changing the system, the way the people think...changing the world."_

Iris knew it sounded overly idealistic from the snort that came from the man next to her.

"_I know it's easier said than done...but it's the only answer I have for you. You need unity, you need to make the right moves, but most importantly, you need to convince the people...and you definitely can't do it alone._

Picking the dirt off her finger nails she looked out at the sun slowly descending from its zenith.

"_What you're doing, will only keep them at bay for so long until they find out what you've done, and then they will make example of you and your people for the rest of the continent...it's not a sustainable peace...for anyone. It's bigger than that...one region can't be free, that will instantly create the paranoia in Europe that if one region gets away, what if the others follow? The doubt will never cease to exist."_

"_It should spread," _he stated firmly.

"_If it spreads and has no order to it...it'll never work...the effect won't be as...overwhelming."_

"_I can't seem to understand...why we have allowed ourselves to...become transmuted European capital...I look at the faces of my mother, my neighbor, my friends...and I see weariness."_

"_That's not what I see when I look at you." _

"_What do you see?"_ Pedro inquired, turning to her looking for an answer in her expression.

"_I see restlessness."_

Jack and Elizabeth were walking back towards them still arguing.

"So is there any truth to the other stories?" she questioned Jack demanding an answer.

He put down the bottles of what clearly looked like alcohol on to the sand and repeated, "Truth?"

Jack lifted his sleeves to unveil the angry "P "on his wrist along with his namesake tattoo. On the other arms were disturbing scars of what looked like burnt cuts on the veins and finally he pulled on the neck of his shirt to reveal the clear scars of having been shot twice on his right side. "No truth at all," he said narrowing his eyes.

He sat down next to Iris where he had his boots and coat drying off on top of his sword and two other branches. Her plastic bag happened to be next to him too.

"Keep a weathered eye out for passing ships and our chances are fair," said the eccentric pirate taking a sip of rum from the largest of the two bottles.

Elizabeth looked at Jack once again with that look of having realized something more about the man Will had dealt with to save her. She hesitantly said, "What about Will, we have to do something..."

"Your absolutely right," he responded corking the same bottle he had drank from and rolling it to her on the sand. He lifted the other round bottle of rum and toasted, "Here's luck to you Will Turner" and he took a rather large sip.

Picking up the bottle, Elizabeth just noticed the presence of both Iris and Pedro there and suddenly her fury became apparent on her face as she looked over at Pedro. "You! You betrayed us! How could you give the medallion to Barbossa!" Her hands were clenched in anger and her jaw set, if foam began to form, Iris would not have been surprised.

"He would have found it either way. It's what they were looking for. Perhaps if your lover had shut his mouth we wouldn't be stuck here in the middle of nowhere," he answered tensing at her accusation.

"To save us!"

"You mean to save _you_. If he had kept that information to himself, it would be you who would be cornered for information...wouldn't it?"

"He has a point," added Iris looking up at Elizabeth who looked like she was about to have a meltdown. This time she uncorked the bottle of rum, took a very unladylike swig and stormed off to the other side of the island.

All of a sudden Jack had his sword pointed at Pedro and Iris found herself in the middle of it. The half indigenous pirate stood completely still as Jack threateningly pressed the sword against his neck. "_Ms. Swann_ has a point, because even if said medallion may have found itself in the hands of that miscreant, you sped up the process there, mate. Not to mention that I crewed ya and I don't take traitors lightly."

Iris found herself defending her fellow compatriot and though she knew to an extent that it was best she didn't get involved. However, she found herself unable to turn around and look the other way...even if he had done the same just a few moments ago.

"Stay out of it, luv" he warned her followed by Pedro who added, "Quitaté mujer."

Iris stood between them and although she stood firm, she pleaded, "Not here Jack, we're stranded on this island and killing someone right now won't solve anything. We'll part ways after this, you won't have to see him again."

"And why should I spare 'im, this treacherous ingrate?"

Taking a deep breath, Iris proposed, "If you let him go, I'll show you what's in the bag."

So I my first intention was to write an entire chapter dedicated to just the island scene but I have a feeling there will be another part or parts to this because there is still a lot going on and while POTC originally made a straight to the point scene of being marooned, in the story ideas are very important to each character and this is the "opportune moment", as Jack would say, to clear things and sort of have that steadiness for Iris's relationship with Jack begin to develop without the commotion of everything else that's happening. Well, hope you enjoyed! R&R!


	16. Conversations with Revolutionists

**Chapter 16: Conversations with Revolutionists**

**Human Nature**

by Quilapayuna

**Conversations with Revolutionists**

_1720, Small Island in the middle of the Caribbean_

Jack Sparrow was a man that perplexed Iris. She wasn't sure if it had to do so much with his ataxia-like behavior than his actual character.

What _was_ his character? _Who _was Jack Sparrow?

His eccentricity distracted an incredible amount to ever truly understanding him on more than a superficial level.

Iris wanted to say that there were many things about Jack that probably haunted him and she often felt a lot of his behavior was used to camouflage those defects he probably couldn't stand himself, sort of like the person who does things in exaggeration to make up for whatever they felt they lacked.

Jack gave off that vibe.

He was a man with too many things to try to understand. If Iris were to set her mind on simply thinking about Jack, she'd get as much of a headache as when she dedicated her brain to thinking about religion. There was also her fear of settling her thoughts on this man who was clearly not as simple cut as the rest of the male species. Taking into consideration that she was traveling with this man, she preferred to ignore any alarms in her head for now. Because, lingering on the notion that this man could easily be bargaining the lives of everyone for his own means was too much for her to be weighing...even if to some extent she already knew he had...and probably still was. Where else could she go? It was pretty clear that by normal standards she didn't quite fit in and being the odd one out in the 18th Century was already looking like a scary situation.

"If you let him go, I'll show you what's in the bag."

Was this _her_ opportune moment? She had to come clean at some point and what was in the bag was already weighing her down physically carrying it around everywhere...they would find out sooner or later and now that they were all stuck in the same situation, maybe they would understand...?

Jack still held his sword pointed at Pedro who did not fluster even a bit. The expression on Pedro's face made her think of someone who had already been threatened more than one time. He looked rather disinterested and the lines on his face suggested he was tired of this same power stance – the European threatening the Indigenous.

"Just let him go to the other side of the island and you don't have to see him...please Jack," her pleading made Jack take a step back and sort of refocus on the scene before him. The man did not seem to look like he was going to harm him. His expression seemed blank, if not sorrowful to some extent. Iris's eyes betrayed she clearly knew something he did not and he was not about to pass up the opportunity to find out interesting piece of information or what was in the bag. The former pirate captain lowered his sword and said, "I don't want to see ye'r face on this side until I say so."

Pedro without as much as a bat of an eye, took his own sword and walked into the shade of the island, passing to the other side. Iris stared at the shore next to them, finding a strange sensation to be left alone with Jack. She could only define that feeling at the pit of her stomach as awkward.

Iris saw that he was already making way for the bag and she quickly walked in front of him. "Wait..."

"We have an accord, luv - "

"I know, I know that. I just need to show you myself what's in here," she said pressing the deteriorating bag to her. It was strange how she felt it difficult to look at this particular man's eyes. His stare was intense, not in the same way Pedro's was but it was this penetrating stare that made her feel like she was completely exposed, like an open book...and most of the time Iris knew that she wasn't...for the most part.

"What I show you in this bag...you can't freak out about it. You understand?" Jack looked perplexed but seemed to have understood what she meant.

"Agreed," he said falsely smiling and made a rushed gesture with his hands for her to get on with it.

Sighing deeply, Iris took a seat on the sand, crossing her legs Indian style and opened the bag and began to pull things out. Jack joined her, seeing how anxiety provoking this whole thing was on her.

His eyes narrowed as he saw the objects she pulled out. A rectangular object that looked metallic with a lens that seemed similar to sailor telescopes. She took out another item much larger, somewhat flat also rectangular with the finely printed insignia of _Dell_ on the top. Finally she took out some other things like books and strange trinkets.

Exhaling deeply, Iris felt the nervous wreck. What if this man also thought she was some witch or demon and would kill her for the benefit of the safety of them all? She didn't want to think about that. She crossed and uncrossed her fingers and began to speak with a shaky voice.

"So that day...the day they put you in that cell with me and I told you I was from New York, I wasn't lying," she looked into his brown eyes that seemed to be looking at her...in her. "I am from New York but not from 1720."

Raising an eyebrow, Jack took Iris's camera and began to look at it, weighing the item in his hands. "Then precisely what year are you from, luv?" he asked nonchalantly, as if they were talking about the weather. She wasn't sure if she liked him reacting that way either.

"Jack, I'm from the year two thousand and eight...I know that sounds ridiculous, impossible but all I can say is that ever since I ended up on the shores of Port Royal I've been living this strange backwards dream and I don't know how to go back."

Iris felt her eyes burn, watering up. She didn't want to cry in front of this man but didn't she deserve at least that? She was so tired and for once she wished she could go back to her stupid little life that consisted of the bitch of a school life she had, not so long ago. The exams, the unfair teachers, the nonsensical education system...all of a sudden she felt a burst in her chest that made her realized how easy her life was and how ungrateful she had been, never once bothering to weigh her own life to someone like Jack's or Pedro's who lived day to day, trying to make it through an existence through any means possible.

Sniffing, she let out a cynical laugh, "You probably think I'm nuts now."

"Luv," began the brown-eyed pirate with that grin that was Jack Sparrow's trademark. "I've had my fair share of the supernatural to be sure...although time-travel is a bit more questionable..."

Sighing once more, Iris took the camera from Jack's hands ignoring his comment and began to explain. "This right here is called a camera. You use it to capture the image of a moment. It really is all a matter of...advanced mechanics."

Jack looked at the device as if it were possessed than looked at her. Iris turned on the little machine where the lens popped out and explained. "Now you just focus with this button and press down completely to capture the picture. Look." She focused on Jack and the sun setting before them and pressed down. "And here's a picture of you looking at me with a pimp expression..." she said handing Jack the camera.

"Interesting..." Jack whispered wide eyed mesmerized by the still-moment. "Very interesting..."

"Wouldn't have imagined it, huh?" asked Iris catching Jack slightly off-guard.

Jack smirked beginning to touch the buttons, "Like you said luv, its progress...who's this?"

Iris grabbed the camera towards her to look at the screen. Her face changed its expression to something between nostalgia and disgust, "That's Frankie."

This time it was Iris's turn to grab Jack's bottle of rum and take a swig. She snorted and continued, "I almost beat the shit out of Elizabeth when I first saw her...they could be twins, I swear."

"Spittin' image, honestly...I think I like Ms. Swann better though..."

Iris laughed at that, "Yeah, Frankie's a bit...darker...hahaha. I'll show you more photos later...that's what they're called photographs or photos."

Picking up her laptop, she flipped open the screen and turned it on. It was pure luck that it was dry...not that it mattered because ultimately the battery would die and none of these things would be of any use...hell they weren't of much use now in this time period.

"This is a computer," explained Iris, sitting closer to Jack to show him the screen. "It can do a multiple amount of tasks, I usually use it for writing up my school work. It also has the ability to connect to...mmm...a virtual network of information so you can research. It's like a giant database where you can find out almost anything you want to know because more than likely someone has shared it or knows about it. You can also edit photos or create art, listen to music...pretty much anything. Um we also have the ability to capture moving images, like a moment in movement. Here..."

Passing the machine to Jack, he held it on his lap and she rubbed her finger against the touchpad and clicked on an icon. It opened to a video of her and her family last Christmas. The figures were cheerfully dancing and laughing to what her father considered _classico_ Puerto Rican salsa while she could hear her mother's laughter from behind the camera as her father did some silly dance moves that gave the moment a carefree happy holiday feel.

Iris began to blink to avoid that watery eye feeling. "That's my dad...being ridiculous at home during Christmas Eve."

Jack just grinned and took glances between the screen in front of him and the girl next to him. Her expression of nostalgia was impossible to disguise. She looked at him and at the screen again.

"I feel so ungrateful... I've _been _so ungrateful," she declared with her brows knit together. "I'd do anything to be back home again, in my normal routine...I'm not cut out for..._this_."

Who was she kidding? Iris Uriquiza from the 21st Century didn't belong in this time period with pirates. She was being everything _but_ of use. She had no purpose here; she was just a tourist in a non-touristic destination. But at the same time she was curious. If you were given the chance to see how shit really went down in history, would you give that up? The ability to verify if you were being lied to by your teachers, your textbooks...your country? To see how much of the past was written in convenience of the present? But she wasn't fit to survive in this time period. She was brought up to make it in 2008 but not in 1720.

Jack's expression became concentrated on the screen in front of him. He continued to stare at the mysterious object while he asked Iris, "Suppose I believe said story of you being of said time...how exactly did you arrive here, luv?"

"Let's just say that my former friend, Frankie, has a lot to do with it although I wouldn't exactly know how to go about explaining _exactly_ how I got here." Iris preferred not to go into any details or even mention anything about crazy rituals or witchcraft or satanic cult spells. After all, she was trying to _avoid_ this guy to think she was a witch...or a nut-job.

Unconvinced, Jack looked to see if there was anything else in the bag and made a move for. "What else is in there?"

Iris handed it to him, it was just books and her notes. Looking at the books she realized something. "Those are my books, one is a history textbook, and the other one is my notebook with my schoolwork...I probably shouldn't let you look at the history textbook though..."

"Why's that?"

Iris shrugged, "You might change the natural course of things."

The pirate opened to the middle of the book. Iris looked at the titles and the contents of the pages he landed on, sighing she remarked, "And of course you would end up on the French Revolution. Stop looking at that."

"Oi, what happens with the French?" he asked while he tried to grab the book away from Iris who was pulling it towards her.

"You'll find out in a few years, calm down!"

"Why should I wait a few years when I can know now!"

"Let go! You're going to rip it and then I'm going to punch you in the face you _jack_ass!"

Iris was about to bite Jack's arm when he beat her to it and pinched her hand, "Ow! That hurt, douchebag!"

He grabbed the book and flipped threw the pages. Iris just lied down on the sand and sighed deeply. It seemed that was what she did a lot of on this island. She rolled her eyes, so what if he looked at the book, one person alone couldn't change history and he was nuts already. Plus, it wasn't like they had anything better to do.

Jack looked concentrated as he flipped through the pages. Trying to absorb more than he could read at a time. "American Revolution...?" he asked more to himself.

"The thirteen colonies rebel against Britain and declare independence," explained Iris who kept her eyes closed, a shade of orange glowed behind her eyelids from the sun shining on them.

"Not _all_ America," stated Jack, looking at the text and the pictures enthralled.

Opening her eyes a bit, Iris covered her eyes away from the sun and looked at him, squinting. "No, not all America...at least not all at the same time but since those who came from the thirteen colonies were rather ego-centric, I guess they thought they represented America. I'd call it the British Revolution really...there weren't any "Americans" involved...just a bunch of patriots. That's what makes British colonies different you know? They never...mixed...at least not like the Spaniards did. The British, all they've ever done throughout history is try to repress or exterminate the indigenous populations of the lands they claim. No offense.

Jack made a gesture that he wasn't and for her to continue.

Iris flipped through some pages to show Jack what she was talking about.

"And well, if you read any further you'll see that after the colonies up North become independent to become the "United States of America", that sort of behavior continues among the descendents of patriots, like one of the U.S. presidents, Andrew Jackson who murdered so many Native American peoples, it was genocide really. But of course no one really talks about that.

"Throughout the centuries, the US has become a refuge for immigrants from all-over the world...with a preference for certain peoples over others...but still a refuge, for the most part.

"But the point is that no, not all of "America" is involved in that revolution, just those who were interested in breaking away from Britain up North," finished Iris feeling a little strange giving this sort of monologue. The last person she has talked to about this was Frankie who was rather detached, logically explaining that war was war and that law of life was that there was always someone weaker to stomp upon and unfortunately those weaker ones suffered while others made it through. The blond from London felt neither offended nor sympathetic.

Iris attributed it to the difference of their upbringing and simply the difference in mentality. When Guy Fawkes was as passionate as you got, you knew that there was little hope for any Che Guevara figures in the UK anytime soon.

"Why _do_ you live up North?" asked Jack having listened to her words.

"For the same reasons every other immigrant has gone to the US. For work, for money, for a future."

"Shouldn't those reasons inspire gratitude rather than accusatory resentment?"

Iris looked at Jack and thought for a bit. How do you answer that?

"I don't _hate_ the US. I can't, I love NY and love its way of life... but there are things that you can't ignore. The way I see it is sort of a vicious cycle. This country, I mean the US, has been responsible for many things...many not nice things. That book skims through a lot of the political problems it's involved itself in, uninvited. Latin America fell from the claws of Spain into the hooks of the United States and the US has manipulated things to their convenience generating more corruption and more poverty.

"But you see that's just it, people will always argue that the poverty and backwardness is just a product of our failure. But guess what, others won because _we_ lost. Latin American underdevelopment is what feeds the development of the capitalistic society of my time. So why am I living in New York, Jack? Because my parents sought out the opportunity that was stolen from them by political upheaval, generated by the US government. And they sought it out in the country that was responsible for their decision to immigrate in the first place. My parents aren't milking any cow. The US has milked every single wave of immigration, that giant cow from the Irish to the Italians to the Chinese to the Hispanics.

"And some people would prefer to turn a blind-eye to that, you know? But the people of the US shouldn't feel offended. Why should they? The decisions, the interests formed weren't made by _them_. Unfortunately, like history has shown us, those small groups of people, like the Caesars of the Roman Empire, like the Pope during the Crusades and like King George with his privateers, it's a small bunch who manipulate the rest of us for their gain."

The pirate looked at her with narrowed eyes and said, "Still sounds like your resented, luv."

"Then how do I explain this to you?...Alright, here's another example," she said as she grabbed Jack's bottle and took a sip. "Just so you know, slavery has been over for a while in my time but if I went up to someone in NY who was African-American and said, 'Hey, you know that slavery thing, we're over that right?' What do you think they would say?"

His brows creased as he took back the bottle of rum from Iris's hands and began to chug.

Iris continued as the pirate drank, "Even if the people who were responsible for all that pain no longer are alive or even if _you_ didn't live through that, those feelings don't disappear. They might fade a bit with time, but they don't become non-existent especially knowing that _that_ moment in history, those cruel acts were directed towards your people and if you had been alive then, they would have been directed at you."

Jack's expression was pensive. Iris had caught him only a few times thinking in that way. Sometimes he spoke to himself, like during the storm before reaching Isla de Muerta, but aside from those moments. He had a somber look upon his face. More flat with less of his ataxic behavior, Jack added,"It's when you start thinking about what people do unquestionably that you realize exactly how the world works."

"Is that why you became a pirate?" asked Iris flatly. It was rather odd, how comfortable and casual that came out.

Jack just snorted and took another drink from the bottle, the rum was almost completely done.

"I used to work for the East India Trading Company, tried sailing the seas on the right side of the law, as it were. When I realized what some of that trading cargo entailed...I came to the conclusion that the right side of the law wasn't all that right."

"What were they trading?"

"What every colony can't go without, Iris."

That was the first time he had said her name and for some reason the way he pronounced her name brought chills down her spine. Somewhere in the corner of her brain she identified the feeling as arousing but...it was probably just the rum.

"What every colony can't go without," repeated Iris. She was about to say water, but that obviously didn't make any sense...and then Iris realized she must have hit home somehow with what she had told Jack. "They made you transport slaves."

The marooned ex-captain looked at the bright oranges and pinks that laid in front of them, glowing like a something out of a painting onto the shore before them.

"I was born into piracy, luv. Born right in the middle of the ocean. Me dad was a pirate, only natural I become a pirate in the end."

"What about your mother?" asked Iris. What was it with this century and mothers? Did no one have a mom? Will didn't, what he had said about Elizabeth, neither did she.

"Don't have many memories of her, luv." He grinned handsomely...did he always have that beautiful grin? "Me dad took me from Tortuga when I was but a brat running around. I'd see her every time we made port there though. Didn't see much of her again after I ventured off on my own. She was dad's favorite though."

"What do you mean she was your dad's favorite?"

The pirate just laughed and took another sip as he gave her a look. Realizing what he meant, Iris just said, "Oh" and felt herself blush. If his father had been a pirate, it was only reasonable that his mother, in Tortuga, would have been a prostitute.

Iris just stared at Jack and all of a sudden a series of unanswered questions popped into her head. Did having a mom make a difference? Iris couldn't imagine her life without her own mother because as much as she loved her father, her mother was...well, her mom. And then she thought about how there were many kids without either one or the other and sometimes without both. But maybe that was also survival in the 18th Century? Iris's mind came up with this strange social Darwinian explanation that maybe, just maybe, not having a mom made you better suited for survival in this time-period. Just looking at colonization, moving to the New World opened doors of opportunities. You might not have been jack-shit in Europe...but here, you could make yourself into something...legally or illegally. But moving in the 18th Century wasn't like in the 21st where you could easily just say "bye mom and dad, see you in a few months." If you moved to a colony you were more than 99.9% likely to stay there. So mothers...mothers were an emotional attachment – a vulnerability that prevented progress in the 18th Century. Moms were for nurturing and Dads were for toughening you up. Dads increased your chances of survival while Moms (or Mom like behavior) inhibited your chances of survival...or at least getting your sperm to the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Well, that was her conclusion...her rum induced conclusion.

"Just because you were born in a pirate environment, doesn't mean your "destined" to be a pirate...whatever _that_ means. It's not like anyone took a gun to your head and said you _must_ be a pirate. If you honestly believe you were destined for that then it's because you wanted to be a pirate."

"Not being one didn't turn out so well, did it?" he retorted in defense at her accusatory tone.

"What exactly happened?" asked Iris, digging her toes into the sand.

Jack took a final swig at his bottle. "I was a merchant sailor, and when I became aware that I was transporting slaves to the Caribbean I at first didn't think over it, tried not to. It never sat well with me, but...I ended up freeing them at one of the ports on our way. With me crew, we set for Tortuga. It was only a matter of time until they found out about the loss of their cargo and I would be held responsible. They did catch me in Saint Domingue and sunk me ship, _The Wicked Wench_.

Rubbing the outside of his wrist with the branded 'P', "And then they gave me this..."

"Who's they?"

"East India Trading Company."

"Private companies are allowed to do that?"

"When they're given power of the crown, they can do whatever, luv."

"How did freeing slaves make you a pirate?"

"The man in charge...was only concerned with his investments. He told me before he branded me, 'Was it really worth it...they were just a few Negroes, just good business.'

The pirate looked at her and added somberly, "There are too many misfits out in the world...and less good mates in it.

Jack picked himself up from the sand and changed the subject. "While this has been a most...instructive conversation I think we ought to make fire, otherwise we find ourselves freezin' on this bloody island."

Iris followed Jack into the shade where strangely enough there was a door in the ground. "What is that?"

"Where the rum runners kept their rum. Apparently they've been out of business for a while." So that's where Jack had gotten his rum.

Through the shade of the trees Iris could make out a light flickering and the sound of two people conversing. It seemed that Pedro and Elizabeth were now on better terms chatting it up, as strange as it seemed.

"Wonder how Will and them are doing with Barbossa..."

Jack with three bottles, one which he handed to Iris, reassured her that they would have to wait till tomorrow to find Isla de Muerta from where they were, otherwise night would make it difficult for passing.

"How is it you manage to find it normal to talk about Isla de Muerta and whatever crazy shit that is going on without freaking out?"

Grabbing a few twigs and a large branch, Jack got to work on their sand spot where they had sat before. Iris watched as the pirate began rubbing the ends of the twigs on the branch. She felt like she was part of that TV series 'Lost' or the movie 'Castaway'. It all seemed so surreal and completely backwards.

She took hold of her bag and looked at the computer and camera. The two things that bonded her to the technological advances of her time...and yet, what uses did they have? When the batteries died her in 1720, it would be useless. The only thing of value, of true, dangerous even, value was that history textbook. Ink and paper, something so simple that goes back to god knows when…and it was the only thing worth anything. It was the reminder that this moment she was living today would one day unwind itself into events that would shape history somewhere on this planet. This planet that has seen every single thing man has done.

"We are insignificant little things in the bigger scheme of things," declared Iris as she laid arms thrown on the warm sand. Who would have thought she would be here, right now, siding with a pirate against some paranormal situation that fit nowhere in her 21st Century skeptical thinking. And in that line of thinking religious figures like God and the Devil were sort of metaphorical figures. For Iris, God and the Devil were on the same level of Greek Gods who held a purpose when it came to the natural unfolding of the earth. It served to teach humans lessons in how to lead a good life, keep social order and ultimately teach common sense.

But now, sitting on this island as the result of hellfire was still making her flip out. All this was turning around that organized plan she had in her head of what life was and how the world worked. It was like knowing for sure that 2+2 was 4 and then someone proved it wrong and said, "No, bitch. YOUR WRONG." She was freaking out every second that went by even if she wasn't showing it out on display.

"Aye, luv. That we are," agreed Jack. "Being born into piracy, ye' learn that the supernatural isn't anythin' more than natural."

"It's humans that do unnatural stuff," stated Iris pensively. The more she stayed in this time-period the more she learned about what a person was capable of for reasons that more than often held incomprehensible logic until they reasoned it out for you. Barbossa, Pedro, Jack, Will, Elizabeth...all were involved in the same problem, stuck in the same circumstances but all for different reasons and different purposes. Hell, she was a tag-along with a purpose even if it was to simply 'stay safe and alive.'

"Why is _the Pearl _so important...why not...any other ship?"

"_The Pearl's_ freedom, luv. She's not just a keel and a hull and a deck and sails, that's what a ship needs."

"Any other ship could provide the same thing. I'll give you that, from what I understand, _the Pearl_ is fast...but as a pirate you could probably afford having a faster one made."

Jack looked at her as if what had come out of her mouth were blasphemy. "It's more than just that, luv. Much more..."

"Why'd you name it the _Black Pearl..._I mean did you name it?"

"It's a pearl among ships, luv," he answered not divulging much more.

"And Black?"

Jack didn't answer as he managed to ignite a spark in the wood of the branch.

Iris figured he just didn't feel like telling her...but knowing Jack, if he didn't want to say why he would have lied about it. That was the thing about Jack...he usually didn't leave you hanging for an answer because you could always expect for him, at the very least, to pull something out of his ass.

If she would name a ship...she'd name it after something epic...like someone important...an event...

An event...?

Of course, why not a name that stuck with the most important thing you've done in your life. Being supposedly born into piracy, treasures, women...those things were nothing out of the norm to really move a man. More moving would be a moment in your life that forced you to make a decision that didn't concern your interests and ultimately determined your place in life.

"The _Pearl_ is the ship you sailed when you freed those slaves," concluded Iris. "_Black_ is after them..."

Any other person would have thought that _The Black Pearl_ was named after something tainted but no; it was named after the action taken by its Captain – Freedom. Jack gave those slaves, those _humans, t_he most beautiful treasure of all, their liberty. And that truly was the pearl, the greatest treasure of his life. It was probably the only treasure he hadn't stolen or taken – he created it.

Continuing to ignore Iris, Jack took a large chug of his rum. "_The Wicked Wench_ sunk...I had to change her name to something more...pirate-y"

Iris would have laughed at that overly simplified excuse but she was too caught up in her own thoughts. All of a sudden Jack was brighter in her vision than ever before because there was evidently much more to this man than she had thought. A man who she had no doubt had seen the weirdest and strangest things, had been marked a decision that haunted him. It was a decision that did not benefit him and furthermore shed light onto an ideal he had, a way of thinking he held and refused to manifest. He was a good man.

What was the difference between Jack and Pedro? While Pedro freely admitted and did everything in his power help those he wanted to free (even if his strategy was a bit narrow-minded), Jack did everything in his power to not think about those ideas or linger on those feelings because unlike Pedro he saw too much, all the complications and not being able to have everything work out freaked Jack the fuck out.

Iris stood up and walked towards Jack who now had a fire in front of them and was chugging the rum like it was going to save his life. She grabbed the bottle and threw it in the fire, the flames crackled and the fire expanded. "Stop it, stop _that_. You can't run away from yourself, Jack! It's not them, it's not what you did! It's what's inside you! You're a good man and no matter how hard you try to be a shameless pirate, in some corner of your mind what you believe, what you know to be right will always haunt you. ALWAYS. And the _Pearl_ isn't the answer to your peace of mind. Instead of chasing after whatever ideas you have about eternal life and overly romanticized concepts about freedom, you should be doing what you can to _give_ freedom. Because the truth is that you'll never be free until you do what you know is right!"

At this point Iris's voice had gradually risen turning her completely red, heaving in frustration. It was then that Iris felt a hand behind her head, grabbing a handful of her hair moving it towards a tanned face with brown eyes. Jack stared into her green eyes, eyes that to him reminded him of the sea right after a storm, it wasn't long until his vision focused onto a pink pair of lips that were swollen with the heated speech she had given.

Iris could smell the rum laced into his breath and instead of being disgusted as she had expected, she felt something warm in the pit of her stomach travel lower to...other regions. And then quicker than she could register her lips felt like they were on fire. The moistness of Jack's mouth captured her own and it was the strangest and most exciting feeling. His mustache brushing against her mouth as his tongue opened her lips apart and sought her own. She found herself pressed upon this man's chest and it felt delicious. She couldn't lie, it was the most exquisite feeling and as quickly as all that happened...it stopped.

The New Yorker found herself overwhelmed with dead weight as Jack Sparrow had clearly passed out. She didn't blame him. They hadn't eaten a thing and he had drunk about two full bottles of rum. A feat really if she thought about how hungry she was. Sighing, she laid the pirate down and watched the crackling fire.

She really had to be drunk because there's no way Iris would have said half of the things she had during her "telling-Jack-off" moment. And if she had been sober she certainly wouldn't have allowed him to steal her first kiss.

Running a hand threw her salty, beach hair, Iris sighed frustrated with herself.

What did any of this mean? Was understanding Jack a bit better? Or did it just bring up more questions?

But most importantly who the fuck did she think she was? Who the fuck was Iris Uriquizá?

She was nothing but the little high school teen from NYC living an average life and she had the nerve to tell off a pirate who probably had seen more shit than she ever would. Here were Jack and Pedro, two men who had done and were doing something for what they believed, acted on their ideals, strive for something worthwhile on the bigger scheme of things. The most she ever did and probably was going to do was complain and whine about Republicans and other political problems that she would never do anything more to solve since she already deemed them unsolvable with the corruption and overall global knot of problems of the 21st Century.

Iris Uriquizá was a hypocrite lecturing half-assed revolutionists. But even being half-assed, they at least had done something. What had she done...what was she _going_ to do?

In the middle of the Caribbean with that beautiful clear starry night overhead, Iris pondered that last question and wondered where this revelation would place her on the greater scale of things.

Hey, hey, hey! Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts! Questions and Comments! Read and Review :)


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